


The Gambler's Wedding

by Setcheti



Series: The Gambler's Heart [4]
Category: Bonanza, Gunsmoke, House 2: The Second Story, Maverick (TV), The Magnificent Seven (TV), Wild Wild West (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Gen, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 07:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 51,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2220843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setcheti/pseuds/Setcheti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The big day draws closer and closer, and everyone has a part to play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Artemus Gordon and James West rode into Skull Valley just as the sun was starting to set and reigned their mounts to a halt in the hard-packed yard that fronted the sturdy ranch house at its center. "Hello the house!" West called out.

A man stepped out on the porch with a rifle tucked in the hollow of his arm. He was short and compactly built with longish brown hair and sharp amber eyes; he walked with a pronounced limp. The man's face lit up and his grip on the rifle relaxed when he saw who his visitors were. "Jim! Long time no see!"

"Same here, Jesse." West dismounted and tossed his horse's reins over the hitching post. "Don't think you've met my partner…"

"Artemus Gordon," Jesse finished for him. He shook West's hand with a firm grip and then offered his hand to Gordon. "Agent Gordon, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. Welcome to Skull Valley!"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, too," Gordon commented, returning the handshake. "You've got a beautiful place here - and it's Artemus, please."

"Jesse," the shorter man responded in kind. "Charlie!" he called out in the direction of the barn. "Charlie, it's okay; it's Jim and his partner!"

A tall, lanky man stepped out of the barn, also carrying a rifle. "Hey Jim! Way to warn us you were coming!"

"We decided it would be safer just to ride out here," West replied. "You guys having some trouble?"

Jesse just shrugged. "Skull Valley is a strange place, you know that," he said dismissively - but West noticed that neither he nor Charlie had put down their rifles. "I should be asking you the same question. Safer?"

"Only from nosy telegraph operators and express riders," Gordon said.

"We have some news that I think might mean a lot to you," West elaborated. "But the three of you are the _only_ ones that need to hear it." He looked around, feeling a slight prickling at the back of his neck that betokened danger somewhere near. "Your trouble go on two legs or four?"

"Depends," Charlie answered, his eyes narrowing. A loud whinny startled everyone, and he spun back toward the stable and fired at a creeping black… _shape_ that had appeared out of nowhere and looked like it was about to leap toward them. The rifle roared, and the creature fell to the ground and then vanished. "Thanks, Zombie!" Charlie yelled out, and a loud, agreeable neigh came from inside the barn. He turned back to the other men with a rather grim smile as he reloaded. "At least they clean up after themselves."

"Nice shot, Charlie," Jesse said, lowering his own rifle. "I don't think we'll see any more tonight."

The tall man's eyes narrowed. "You have a feeling?"

Jesse's gaze went unfocussed and distant, and then he nodded. Charlie nodded too and slapped him on the shoulder; Jesse blinked and shook himself. "I'll go tell Maya to set two extra plates for supper," he said. "Charlie will help you settle your horses in the barn for the night."

West watched him turn and limp back into the house with a frown. "Charlie?"

"Like the man said, Skull Valley is a strange place," Charlie replied with a shrug. "You _did_ fill your partner in on all of this before you rode in, right?"

"He did," Artemus said, looking thoughtful. "I found some of the subtle similarities between the two stories to be intriguing, especially the South American connection."

Charlie froze. "Did you just say… _two_ stories?" he squeaked. "And _similarities_?"

West patted his shoulder. "We'll tell you all about it over supper."

  
They all retired to the spacious front porch after supper to enjoy the cooling night breeze. Jesse finally broke the silence; he'd been looking over Juliet's drivers' license, wondering at the strangely alien feel of the smooth, once-familiar plastic under his fingers. "You're sure she'll be all right in Four Corners? It worries me that the other Baxter sister is still on the loose - and she knows where Juliet is. And with that rift only half a day's ride away…"

West just smiled. "You're really going to get into this big brother thing, aren't you?"

"Probably; making up for lost time in the family department, I guess." Jesse smiled too. "You say it's only two, three days' ride from here? I'd kind of like to get acquainted with my 'long lost little sister' before the wedding."

"Would be a good idea," Charlie seconded thoughtfully from his seat on the steps; he was watching the light breeze toss the treetops against the star-spangled indigo sky. "Would reinforce the story for the locals, too; it would only make sense that her 'long-lost older brother' would come riding in as fast as he could to check out the guy his baby sister is marrying, make sure everything is kosher and all that."

"But that _is_ one of the reasons I want to…"

Charlie snorted. "I rest my case. Are you boys headed back that way?"

Artemus shook his head. "Not until the wedding," he said. "Although I confess that I'm worried about the 'unfinished business' involved in this situation as well…"

"He means he's having trouble remembering he's not really Juliet's uncle," West teased. "He asked me yesterday if I thought there was a family resemblance."

"There _is_ a resemblance," his partner said, unruffled. "We both have black hair."

"Yep, that'll do," Charlie drawled, sharing an amused look with West. "By the time these two get through, Jim, poor Juliet is gonna believe they're related too." He turned his attention back to the shadow-dimmed panorama of Skull Valley stretched out before him. "So, are you going to tell the President?"

Gordon cleared his throat. " _Just_ the President. I'm certain he'll understand why it's best to leave Juliet alone."

"If nothing else, he'll leave her alone as a favor to us," West agreed. "President Grant trusts our judgment when it comes to this kind of decision, even if he doesn't always agree with it - that's why we don't report to anybody but him in the first place."

Jesse shook his head, fixing the two Secret Service agents with a worried gaze. "But Grant won't be President forever, guys. What happens then?"

The question was a shock…until the two men remembered what both Juliet and Jesse had told them about the state of American politics in their own world. "I honestly don't know," West said slowly, sharing a troubled look with his partner, who shrugged. "I guess we'll just cross that bridge when we come to it."

Charlie frowned and turned his attention back to the view. "If there's a bridge there," he murmured softly, making mental note of a few likely places to build a second house…just in case.

 

Judge Orrin Travis admitted to himself that he was concerned about the state of affairs in Four Corners. He hadn't been to the town in several months, having been attending to family business back East, and what little snippets he had gleaned from his daughter-in-law's infrequent letters and his oft-delayed weekly copy of the _Clarion_ had inflamed his worries instead of easing them. There was just too much not being said…and Orrin Travis didn't appreciate being left out of the loop. So instead of going straight to Mary's house when he got off the afternoon stage, he had instead instructed the stage driver to see that his bags were taken to the Clarion office and had set out to have a look around.

The day had been typically hot for late August and the streets were quiet and mostly deserted; he didn't see many changes from the last time he'd visited except for a late-summer garden gracing the side of the church and what looked like some renovations being done to the old Ramsey house at the north end of town. The hotel appeared to be doing quite a bit of business considering the time and the weather, however, but the rich smells that were drifting out of the building convinced him to go inside to find out what was going on instead of just asking Mary about it later. Finding an isolated table, he settled in mostly unnoticed and took a good look around.

What he saw, astoundingly enough, was afternoon tea - something served at many restaurants back East but almost unheard of in the West. He said as much to Jenny Abbott when she bustled over to wait on him and was surprised by her response. "Civilization is what you make of it," she informed him. "There was an Englishman come through about a week ago bemoaning the absence of teatime 'round these parts and those were his words exactly when Julie fixed something up to please him. He wound up staying three days, and by the time he left we actually had enough folks coming around wanting afternoon tea that it would have been silly of me not to keep on having it."

"It does look like you're doing a good business on it," Orrin agreed. "Julie…that's the little Southern girl that lives with the Potters, isn't it? I seem to remember Mary writing to me about her. Did anyone ever find out where she belongs?"

To his amazement he saw several patrons who'd been in earshot of his question turn in their seats with distinctly unfriendly expressions aimed his way and Mrs. Abbott stiffened. "She _is_ where she belongs," the woman told him firmly, a clear note of warning in her voice. "I'd not want to be the person who tried to say different, that I wouldn't. Will you be wanting tea or coffee, Judge?"

"Tea, please, Mrs. Abbot." She left without another word, and the judge sat back in his chair with a thoughtful look on his face. Here, then, was one of the loops he'd been left out of; granted he may have missed out on some of his mail, but he was certain that Mary's only comments regarding the girl had been related to her living arrangements and the mystery of her arrival in Four Corners. Considering the unexpectedly hostile response an innocent question had garnered, though, Orrin didn't think a series of pointed inquires would go over very well at all; that meant his next stop was the newspaper office to have a talk with Mary…

Mrs. Abbott came back with tea and a plate of sweet biscuits, but in spite of the suspicious frown she was still wearing she didn't say anything else. The judge maintained his silence as well - not hard to do once he'd sampled the biscuits, and he ended by eating more of them than was probably good for him. Leaving a generous tip on the table once he was finished, he made his way down the street to the Clarion and walked in. "Mary!"

The newspaperwoman was bending over her press, setting type; she immediately put down the tray and straightened, frowning. "Orrin, the stage driver brought your bags an hour ago, I was starting to worry. Is something wrong?"

"You tell me," he said in a dry voice. "I stopped in over at the hotel and Jenny Abbott just about bit my head off when I asked about that little Southern girl she has working for her. Why don't you tell _me_ what's wrong?"

Mary sighed. "My last letter must not have caught up with you. It's not Jenny's fault, everyone's still a little skittish after what happened." She circled around her desk to sit down and Orrin took the visitor's chair. "Remember when I wrote you about those two strange girls that were locked up in the jail for a few days?" He nodded. "Well, it turns out that they were some kind of outlaws from Denver. In a nutshell, they kidnapped Juliet, she got away from them somehow and ended up here, and then when they escaped from the nuns at Fort Laramie they headed back to Four Corners to finish what they started - which apparently involved killing her in some sort of ritual." He raised an eyebrow at that and she shrugged. "That's what they told everyone after they got her back from them this last time, just about three weeks ago. I didn't understand it either and none of them will explain it to me, and after I tried to talk to that uncle of hers Chris came by and _ordered_ me not to bring it up again!"

Orrin hid a smile; Mary wasn't the type of woman who took orders, and he imagined she'd been making life hell for Larabee for trying to give her one. "Did you try just asking the girl?"

She snorted. "I'd have Jenny and Gloria both out for my blood if I did - and Mr. Standish and Mr. Sanchez would probably have more than a few words to say to me as well."

That surprised him. "Sanchez I understand," he said slowly, worrying again. "He's got a fatherly streak a mile wide, but what possible interest could Ezra Standish have in the matter?"

Mary's eyes widened. "That's right, you don't know about _that_ either," she said. "I'm sorry, Orrin; Ezra and Juliet are engaged, the wedding is to be next month."

" _Wedding_?!" the judge exclaimed disbelievingly. "And just how did that happen - I thought you said she was a child!"

"That was my first impression," Mary admitted a little shamefacedly. "A lot of people's, in fact, because she's so small and delicate and the clothes she was wearing when she first came here were too big and that didn't help either. But she's in her twenties and from what I could gather she's been on her own in the world for some time - she didn't even know for sure that the uncle was alive until he and his partner showed up in town last month, apparently they'd been out of the country and only just recently returned. His name is Artemus Gordon and I think he works for the government."

Orrin started and slowly straightened in his chair. "Was his partner's name West, Mary?" Mystified, she nodded; he nodded too. "That explains that, then; let Chris off the hook, girl, he had good reason for telling you to let it alone." Mary bristled and the judge chuckled grimly. "He was protecting _you_ , you see; Gordon and West are Secret Service agents, two of Grant's most trusted men. They approved of her marrying Standish?"

"Mr. Gordon seemed to be ecstatic about it," she replied slowly. "They're coming back for the wedding, he's giving the bride away. Secret Service? I wonder if the kidnappings had something to do with…"

"Leave it alone, Mary," Orrin ordered, frowning at her. "The boys and I may represent the law but those two are _above_ it; trust me, this is one can of worms that shouldn't be opened for curiosity's sake because it would probably explode in your hand." He leaned forward, catching and holding her eyes. "Now promise me you'll forget all about this and not bring it up again." She started to protest and he cut her off before she could get started. "Mary, if you go against me this time it is not going to be just a few angry ranchers and hired guns, do you understand?"

The newspaperwoman winced; the two of them had had words in private last year over the stand she was taking and he had advised her strongly to back down a little before she caused real problems for the town. She hadn't listened that time, and the results had been disastrous for all concerned. "It's that serious? Those two are that dangerous?"

"You're surrounded by men who are that dangerous, myself included," Orrin told her, relaxing again as he saw she had taken his point. "But that aside, you've lived out West long enough to know not to fool around when blood ties are involved; even a rabbit will turn mean on you if you mess with one of its kits, and Artemus Gordon is no rabbit." He stood up and stretched. "I think I'll go run down Larabee, get him to fill me in on everything else I don't know about. Don't wait dinner for me; I'm afraid I had a few too many biscuits over at the hotel just now."

"Biscuits? Oh, they must have run out of tarts." She laughed at the look on his face and the tension was broken. "I'm sure she'll make them again, Orrin - Jenny told me her cellar is absolutely bursting with jam, I think they're trying to clear some of it out so it won't go to waste. You're going to be here for a week, right?"

"Don't have to rush this time," he confirmed. "I'll be back after a while, Mary."

  
He strolled casually back across the street to the saloon and found the man he was seeking in his usual spot. Larabee seemed happy to see him; Travis could only imagine that the gunslinger was assuming - correctly - that his presence in town would make Mary let up on her grudge. Chris had insisted on moving their conversation to the jail for privacy's sake; once he started talking Orrin understood why. "Good lord, Chris, I'm amazed they didn't lynch Jackson when that came out!"

"Men have been hung for less," Chris agreed. "We don't need that sort of goings on around here, though, so the boys and I did our best to put him in his place after it happened. Didn't think it was going to take until Mary found out what was going on and laid into him - and even then he still let loose a few times." He snorted. "Ezra deserves a medal for not killin' him; I would have."

"What would you have done if Standish had called him out?" the judge wanted to know.

"Watched," Larabee drawled coolly. "Set someone to patch Nathan up when it was over; Ez is more accurate than I am, he wouldn't have had to aim to kill."

"Hopefully we won't ever have to find out," Orrin said with an invisible shudder; he was thinking that the town was lucky Ezra Standish was _not_ the unprincipled man he often appeared to be. "So how do things stand now?"

"Gettin' better." Chris leaned back in the chair and stretched out his legs. "A lot of the hard feelings are starting to soften up now that Nate is learning to think before he talks." He decided to change the subject. "Don't know if Mary told you or not, but Josiah has decided he's a preacher again."

That raised an eyebrow but Travis was not to be deterred. "Interesting. What about those outlaws you were having trouble with, the ones that were after the girl?"

"Dead," Larabee said flatly. "All but one, anyway, and if that one has half the sense God gave a mule she's in Mexico by now and not plannin' to come back."

"So it was one of those two girls that got away? Weren't they awfully young to be about that sort of thing?"

"William Bonney is young too," was the reply. "They were animals, Judge, absolutely rabid; I'd never seen anything like 'em and neither had Gordon and West. And after what we caught them trying to do…well, that Catie Baxter had best never show her face within twenty miles of this town if she wants to live."

Travis frowned. "They were really trying to sacrifice the girl? That doesn't seem plausible in this day and age."

"Maybe not, but that's what they were trying to do," Chris countered. "Heard them say it myself, that they were going to cut her heart out." He smiled, just a little grimly. "And that's when Miss Julie told them that even if they killed her Ezra and the rest of us would hunt them down. That little woman's got sand, you have to give her that."

There was just the slightest emphasis on the word _woman_ and Orrin considered himself corrected. "Did you find out why they wanted to do such a thing? And why her?"

Chris hesitated; now part of West's burden of secrecy belonged to him and he was feeling the weight of it. "Josiah says that the purer the victim, the more powerful the ritual," he said finally. "It made sense that they would set their sights on Miss Julie with that in mind. And as for their reasons…" He sighed and shook his head. "It's…a matter of national security, Judge, so I really can't say anything about it."

One corner of Orrin's mouth twisted up in a wry grin. "That what West told you to say?"

"Yep - and we all agreed, too." Chris looked for a challenge, didn't find one, and relaxed again. "And none of it really matters now anyway. She's here, they're gone, and we're having a wedding next month, end of story."

"Yes, I guess it would be." The older man gave the younger a sideways glance. "So who gets to stand up for the groom?"

"None of us," Larabee told him, grinning himself. "Ezra made a right nice speech to all of us one night in the saloon, said he'd promised a friend down Mississippi way the job if the time ever came again and he couldn't rightly ask anyone else. And apparently that wasn't his only friend; he sent off a stack of letters that would choke a horse as soon as they'd set the date."

"September is a lucky month for weddings," Travis observed. "My wife and I were married in September. Did he tell his mother yet?"

"No." Larabee's grin faded somewhat. "He told me in private about his reasons for not letting her know, though, and I respect them - and he warned me what we could expect once she does find out, and he doesn't aim for that to happen until after the wedding."

"I could see that," Orrin said thoughtfully. "Having met Mrs. Standish and seen the way she keeps trying to tie that boy to her apron strings, I could see how she wouldn't be happy to find out the strings he finally took hold of were attached to someone else's apron. The woman just doesn't like to lose."

"She'll have to get used to it." Chris peeled himself out of his chair and grabbed his hat. "If Mary's not waiting dinner for you you could join us all over at the hotel, we could catch you up on the rest of what you've missed."

The judge started to tell Larabee what he'd told Mary and then he thought about how good those sweet biscuits had been and decided that maybe he wasn't as full as he'd thought. "She's not and I'd be glad to, I've been away much too long this time. It's not good for a man in my position to fall so far behind on the local goings on."

  
JD and Buck were already at the hotel when Chris arrived with the judge and Vin arrived soon after, his long hair showing the wet tracks of a comb. Nathan and Josiah wandered in just as Mrs. Abbott put out the first plate of biscuits on the table. "Julie said to warn you that some of the sweet biscuit dough might have gotten into this batch by mistake; you'll just have to eat them to find out." She slapped back several hands with the towel she'd been carrying as they shot toward the plate. "Manners, gentlemen, or you can go eat somewhere else; Mr. Sanchez, you should be ashamed of yourself. I expect every one of those biscuits to still be there when I come back out with your dinner."

She bustled back out leaving several shamefaced men in her wake. Ezra chose that moment to join them, pulling up a chair between Vin and Josiah. "And are you ashamed of yourself, Mr. Sanchez?" he teased.

"Only because I wasn't fast enough," the big preacher chuckled. "You're late."

"Unavoidable," the gambler replied, shaking out his napkin. "There was an unauthorized equine competition goin' on in the meadow west of town."

"Were you judgin' or bettin'?" Buck wanted to know.

"Stoppin'," Ezra answered. "The local rodent population has expanded into that area, it would have been a shame to be forced to destroy any of the horses over a bit of foolishness like that. Anyway, I sent the participants back to their respective domiciles with a stern admonishment not to be so thoughtless in the future."

"Meanin' the boys were racin' in a field the prairie dogs have got into and you chewed 'em out for riskin' their horses and then sent them all back home and told 'em not to do it again, is that it?" Vin asked with a mischievous grin.

"Mr. Tanner, you excel at restating the obvious," Ezra countered dryly. Vin all too obviously took umbrage for that remark and the gambler jumped. "Kindly keep your wanderin' hands to yourself, ah am spoken for!" he scolded, doing a fair imitation of an offended belle.

Vin blushed and everyone else laughed; Travis looked at Larabee, who just rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Boys," he said warningly, shooting a sharp look at Buck to keep him from joining the fray. "Settle down unless you want to be eatin' in the barn." Two overly innocent looks; Chris scowled. "By way of the horse trough - and that goes for the rest of you, too."

Mrs. Abbott came back out just then so no one had a chance to put the gunslinger's threat to the test. She put the first three plates down in front of Chris, Judge Travis and JD and then whisked back into the kitchen for the rest. Orrin looked down at the steaming soup bowl on his plate and sniffed appreciatively; it contained what looked like beef and beans but not like any beef and beans he'd ever seen served in the West. This was the kind of food he was used to seeing back East, or many years past in the congenial eating houses in the South. _Well, she_ _is_ _supposedly from that part of the country_ , he reminded himself as he tucked into the meal and quickly forgot that he hadn't been all that hungry. And he found to his disappointment that it appeared none of the sweet biscuit dough had gotten in where it didn't belong - at least, it wasn't in either of the two biscuits he ate. Larabee and Sanchez had suspiciously satisfied smiles on their faces, though…

The hotel dining room was filling up, and a flash of blue coming out of the kitchen caught his eye; Orrin stopped eating to look. He saw a blue gingham work dress with a white apron tied into a bow at the back and a long black braid hanging down over it, tied off at the end with a dark blue ribbon. She _was_ small, he saw, almost as small as a child…but when she turned to place the plate of biscuits she'd been carrying on the table it became evident that he was looking at a woman, albeit a young one…a woman with the sweet face of an Italian Madonna and thick-lashed indigo eyes that widened slightly when she noticed his scrutiny.

She wasn't the only person that noticed; three of the cowhands at the table she was taking care of looked over their shoulders with expressions best described as unfriendly to see who had gotten her attention and then just as quickly turned back around when they saw the judge. Travis looked back at his companions when he heard a throat being cleared and saw concern on three faces, a frown on the fourth and a blatant challenge in the fifth. Nathan Jackson's head was still bent over his dinner, but the look on his face said he would like say something and knew he shouldn't. Chris Larabee sighed but didn't stop eating. "I filled him in on what I could before we came over here and he's never seen her before, boys, so just back down."

Travis shook himself. "My apologies, gentlemen, but I have to admit I wasn't sure what to expect. Mr. Standish, I understand congratulations are in order?"

The challenge that had flamed in the green eyes faded somewhat. "Will you be back in town next month in time for the festivities, Judge Travis?" Ezra asked politely. "It would only be fittin' for you to be here, seein' as how it is in large part your fault ah ended up in this dusty locale to begin with."

" _I_ didn't make you stand up for that boy," the judge chuckled. "Or tell you to break that lawyer's jaw for him, either - and no one said you _had_ to stay here past thirty days, now did they?"

"True," the gambler agreed blandly. "But conversely, someone had to, he was askin' for it - and no one told me ah had to leave, either." A small, dimpled smile graced his features as everyone laughed - everyone except Nathan, who just applied himself a little more intently to his dinner without looking up.

Travis noticed that none of the other men appeared to be paying attention to the healer and decided it would be best to follow their lead. Instead he pushed away his now empty bowl and leaned back in his chair. "You know, you told me once that you'd kept in touch with the boy. Any idea…?"

"He followed our advice, signed on with the first cattle drive he encountered and left the whole mess behind," Ezra told him. "Somewhere along the way he developed aspirations of becomin' a lawman and he's been pursuin' that goal in Kansas evah since. I received a letter from him just last week sayin' that he and a friend are supposed to be passin' this way in the near future on their way to testify at a trial."

"He comin' to the wedding, Ez?" JD wanted to know.

The gambler shook his head. "Sadly, no; the date of the trial will have Mr. Dillon languishin' in an Albuquerque courtroom at that time. He does, howevah, plan on stoppin' over for a visit on his way, and he is particularly desirous of meetin' you, JD."

The young sheriff's eyes and mouth opened wide with astonishment. "He wants to meet _me_?"

Ezra nodded gravely. "Of course; as you have already successfully achieved the goal he set for himself, he is quite admirin' of you."

Buck raised an eyebrow at that and received a small shrug in response; the ladies' man smiled to himself. "Write him often, do ya, Ez?"

"Every six weeks or so," was the careless reply, and the gambler abruptly pretended to lose interest in the subject while five of the men around the table exchanged knowing grins around the still-astonished sixth.

Ezra caught Juliet's eye before she disappeared back into the kitchen and they smiled at each other; moments later she reappeared carrying a laden plate and brought it to their table, where she quickly switched it for the empty one the biscuits had been occupying. "I hope tarts will be acceptable to finish with, gentlemen," she said in her sweet, high voice. "And I hope the biscuits were all right; I was rather worried about that batch."

"The biscuits were just fine, Little Sister," Josiah boomed happily, and Travis felt he had confirmed that the preacher had gotten a sweet one. "And I don't believe I've ever seen anyone turn down one of your tarts."

The little woman blushed prettily, and Ezra quickly stepped in. "Darlin', I don't believe you've met Judge Travis, the man who is responsible for hirin' the seven of us to protect Four Corners; Judge, this is Miss Moore, my fiancee whom you've heard so much about."

Travis didn't miss the slight warning note in the gambler's introduction. "Miss Moore," he said genially, receiving a polite nod in response. "It's a pleasure to meet the woman who was able to tie the redoubtable Mr. Standish to her apron strings."

That got a general laugh, but to his surprise Juliet looked faintly scandalized and shook her head. "Never that, your honor," the small woman said seriously, blushing again. "Papa always said no real man would allow it and Mama said a good woman wouldn't even try." With an effort, the judge kept his mouth from dropping open. "Do any of you need anything else from the kitchen?"

"Only if you have another plate of them sweet biscuits stashed back there somewhere, Miss Julie," Buck piped up hopefully.

"I do, but they're for tomorrow." She frowned, looking at him. "Mr. Willmington, I could have sworn you were here for tea."

"He was," Vin told her before Buck could say a word. "Ate more than his share, too."

Juliet gave the ladies' man a reproving look she'd apparently copied from Mrs. Abbott and he wilted visibly. "But they were just so good, I couldn't help myself!"

"I'd say you most certainly _did_ help yourself," Ezra contradicted indignantly. "You helped yourself to mine, you gluttonous heathen."

To Travis' surprise - and almost everyone else's as well - Juliet smiled. "Oh, that's all right then; no harm done," she said brightly. "If there's nothing else, gentlemen…"

"Nothing else, Little Sister," Josiah said with a chuckle. "See you bright and early." She disappeared back through the kitchen's swinging door and the preacher winked at the still-astonished gambler. "Did you ever notice what a sweet tooth Grey Owl has?" he asked slyly. "Think I may have mentioned it over a plate of those sweet biscuits one day…"

Understanding dawned and Ezra hid a grin. Buck looked from one man to the other and groaned, and Vin laughed at him. "Think I might just have to see you all off come morning," he commented, helping himself to a tart. "Make sure you get off okay and all that."

"And where are you gentlemen going?" Travis wanted to know. "Anything I should know about?"

"Just our weekly soujourn to the village," Ezra told him, wishing he could lick the jam off his fingers like JD was doing. "We are expected every Wednesday."

"Yeah, Grey Owl sent some braves to find out what was wrong when they didn't show up three weeks ago," JD chimed in. "Came ridin' into town lookin' for Little Feather, they were real upset when they found out what had happened."

The judge was starting to think he would have to persuade someone besides Mary to write to him when he was out of town - either that or he would need to stay in town more often. "Little Feather?"

"That's Miss Julie," Nathan said quietly. "Children up at the village gave her an Indian name when she started teachin' 'em a few months back. I'm surprised Miz Travis ain't told you about it."

Orrin wasn't surprised at all, considering. "She's a teacher?"

"No, she ain't…"

"And _she's_ never claimed she is," Josiah stepped in firmly, and the healer winced slightly at the implied admonishment. "She just thinks everyone should know how to read."

"An understandable position for someone who was studyin' literature at the university level," Ezra added with just a touch of proprietary pride. "For that mattah, I'm certain she could quite easily qualify as a teacher if she desired to - most of the schoolteachers in this part of the country have far less education than mah Juliet does. But ah have yet to hear her express such a desire, nor am ah certain ah should encourage her to pursue it if she did."

"Our Little Sister has apparently never learned to back down from a job that looks like it needs doin'," Josiah rumbled, half amused, half rueful. "She does too much already; some of it no one even knew about until she got hurt and started frettin' about things not being taken care of because we wouldn't let her out of bed."

"She wasn't the only one that was frettin'," Chris said. "Once the story got around we had half the town up in arms about what happened."

"Yeah, you should've seen Old Bertram, Judge," Buck chuckled. "Old coot came stompin' into the jail day after we got back; he'd been out in the hills for a spell, came back into town and got an earful of the story over at the saloon. Lord, was he ever mad! Ain't never seen him act like that, no siree, I sure was surprised."

"You don't listen to the folks around town enough," JD replied dryly. "Talk to some of the old hands sometime and you'll hear some stories about Old Bertram that'll make you think twice; he used to hole up some bad winters over at the Bar T spread when old man Wilson was still alive, Thad Jones says he helped 'em hunt down the old Dawson gang that used to have a hideout out this way."

"That's just saloon talk," Buck denied.

"Thad Jones ain't given to saloon talk," Vin corrected. "And I've run into the old man out in the hills a time or two myself, he can track just as good as me and he's a dead shot with that long rifle."

"He and Juliet have an 'arrangement'," Ezra added. "She enlisted his aid some time back to 'sample' the food before it is served so that the payin' guests are not unpleasantly surprised; he arrives in the kitchen every evenin' he's in town at five sharp to indulge her - his very word for the activity, as a matter of fact."

Nathan started slightly. "Thought he was lookin' a mite healthier the last time I seen him," he said, half to himself. Then he frowned. "But I've tried to get the stubborn ol' fool to eat lots of times and he always put me off…"

"You just didn't go about it right," Josiah advised. "No man wants to accept charity, no matter how bad he needs it; Miss Julie is letting him keep his pride intact by havin' him do it as a favor to her and Mrs. Abbott."

"If a man's hungry he should eat," Nathan insisted. "Ain't no pride about it."

"Bet you wouldn't say the same if it was you in that situation," Chris said, apparently having the same dilemma Ezra had been faced with regarding licking his fingers. "And Vin and JD are right, Buck; Grey Owl knows about Bert Day too. Just because he's a half-crazy old coot stove up with rheumatism now don't mean he always was."

Orrin pushed back his plate with a sigh. "So tell me, gentlemen, has anything happened in Four Corners that _didn't_ somehow involve Miss Moore?"

The men looked at each other. "The Hastings boys were plannin' to hold up the stage but we stopped them before they got there," JD offered.

"Little Toby Sinton ran away again and Mr. Tanner brought him back," Ezra added.

"Chris and Buck ran down some rustlers over by the Slash Nine," Nathan told him.

"Ezra broke a couple of swindlers and then had JD arrest them for not payin' their hotel bill," Josiah said proudly.

"And Josiah here convinced ol' Willie Benson to patch up his feud with Moses Strickley," Buck included.

Chris nodded. "And we ain't had an all-out brawl in the saloon for six weeks."

"Now that's what I like to hear, boys," the judge said heartily, smiling. "I like to hear that I'm not needed and I can spend the week fishing with my grandson."

  
Dinner was soon over, and the men all vacated the table with more than one regretful look at the empty plate at its center. Chris elected to walk back to the Clarion with the judge, and as they crossed the street from the hotel he chuckled and shook his head as he saw Ezra stealthily make his way around the corner of the building. "Knew he wouldn't be able to hold off."

The judge was standing in just the right spot to see the small figure in the blue calico dress and white apron meet the gambler halfway, and to witness a moment so tender it very nearly took his breath away. "Chris, are you sure?" Travis lowered his voice. "About the Baxter girl being long gone, I mean?"

Larabee looked past him, seeing the rest of the men scatter out to pursue the evening round of peacekeeping duties in the quiet, dusty little town, remembering the jagged hole in reality that had swallowed up Rissa Baxter and knowing it was the latter rather than the former that had frightened Catie Baxter away - and that, hopefully, would keep her away. "Yeah, I'm sure."

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The town of Four Corners may have been cautiously surprised when the news broke that Ezra Standish was getting married, but it was shocked and amazed when he bought the run-down house at the north end of town and then set about repairing it…himself. The sight of the reportedly lazy gambler pounding away at the roof of the house with his sleeves rolled up caused more than one person to stop dead in the street and just stare. The novelty eventually wore off for most of the watchers…but even a week into Ezra’s renovations Nathan could still be seen staring down the street from the small balcony outside his clinic, looking for all the world like he just couldn’t believe his eyes.

Juliet had been busy with the house as well; much to Ezra and Josiah’s dismay the small woman had determinedly added the house to her already extensive ‘to do list’ the same day her fiancé had shown it to her to get her approval. She had polished woodwork and windows, scrubbed floors and walls, dug up weed-choked flowerbeds and transplanted hardy indigenous vines and bushes. She had even hammered together a door-sized framework of narrow wood strips which was then covered with fine netting and hung on small hinges inside the kitchen door to keep out flies. It was through this screened door one day that the working men had been startled to notice the smell of cooking wafting out into the hot air; they knew that Juliet was trying the stove to make sure everything was working properly but hadn’t thought she had anything in the kitchen to cook in, much less to cook with. Further investigation revealed a battered tin pan full of water bubbling on the freshly-blacked stove and containing nothing more than two broken sticks of cinnamon and a scattering of crushed herbs, something Juliet said was called ‘potpourri’ and assured them was completely inedible. "It’s just to make the house smell good," she told the disappointed men. "Everything smelled like whitewash and blacking before, now it smells like _home_."

Ezra had forgotten how good it felt to have a home. Evenings now often found him sitting on the freshly whitewashed porch, watching the town and remembering the last time he’d felt so contented, seven years ago in Beaver Dam. It had been a long time since he’d allowed himself to think about his old life without a bottle of bourbon nearby, but now he had Juliet and she took the sting away much more pleasantly than raw whiskey ever had. She often joined him on the porch in the afternoon before she went to start supper at the hotel and they would sit together and watch the town and talk about…everything. Juliet told him about her family and the friends she’d had in college, and Ezra reciprocated by telling her tales of his wanderings after his discharge from the army, of the places he’d been and the people he’d met—although he was careful to avoid the subject of his mother whenever possible, not knowing quite how to explain Maude in a way that wouldn’t make his protective little fiancée take an instant dislike to her. What he didn’t realize was that Juliet had noticed the omission and put an interpretation on it that couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

 

It was on one of these occasions that their conversation was interrupted by the sight of two riders coming in from the west, one man on a docile-looking palomino and his taller companion mounted on a magnificent chestnut stallion with a black mane and tail. They reigned to a halt in front of the whitewashed gate and both tipped their hats. "Excuse me," the smaller man said pleasantly. "I wonder if you could help us? We’re looking for Juliet Moore…"

Ezra was off the porch and between the riders and his startled fiancée in an instant, hand already on the butt of his gun. "And what would you be wantin’ with Miss Moore?" he demanded icily.

Both men froze; then the stallion let out a nickering snort and bobbed his head and they both relaxed. "She’s my sister," the man said, swinging down out of the saddle; dismounted, he was the same size as Ezra. "Our uncle, Artemus Gordon, tracked me down and told me my long-lost baby sister was living in Four Corners and about to get married—I came as quick as I could." His companion dismounted as well and stood at his side. "I’m Jesse McLaughlin and this is my friend Charlie Corielle."

Ezra relaxed his guard at the mention of Gordon’s name; he remembered the two Secret Service agents mentioning a possible ‘family’ for Juliet and guessed that this was who they’d been talking about. "Ezra Standish," he replied. "You’ll have to forgive my less than welcomin’ reception, gentlemen, but as ah’m certain Mr. Gordon informed you we’ve had some trouble around here recently."

Jesse and Charlie both nodded, having recognized the gambler’s name as well…and then they both froze again; Juliet had come down off the porch and cautiously moved to her fiancé’s side, one slender hand resting on his blue-jacketed arm. James West had told her about two men from her own world - or, at least one much like it - and had warned her laughingly that as soon as he told them about her Jesse would immediately want to adopt her. _He’s an orphan, you see, and he has a real bee in his bonnet about family_ , was what West had said. _I know Jesse pretty well, and it’s going to tickle him to death to add a little sister to the mix - if anyone asks you, just tell people that he left with his grandfather to come West when you were very small; it’s technically true, and the War broke up a lot of families that way so no one will ask any more questions._ She’d been relieved that the Secret Service agent had respected her desire to avoid lying as much as possible. "You’re…my brother? Jesse?"

Jesse’s face blossomed with a huge grin. "That would be me," he confirmed happily. A slightly worried look suddenly appeared on his face. "If that’s okay with you, of course."

Juliet nodded but didn’t release the tight grip she had on Ezra’s jacket. The gambler had been entertaining the idea - much as he didn’t like it - that she might want to speak to the two men alone, but to his relief he realized that they were just as much strangers to her as anyone else from out of town would have been. "I’m sorry we can’t invite you inside, gentlemen - the house lacks amenities at the moment," he told them. "But you are more than welcome to join us on the steps of our future home instead."

Jesse nodded, but Charlie said, "I’m gonna go put the horses up and get us a room for the night, it’s been a long ride. How ‘bout I meet you all at the hotel for supper later?"

The smaller man laughed. "How about I come get you at the saloon later and we’ll go to supper together?"

Charlie grinned and slapped his friend lightly on the shoulder. "This guy knows me too well," he told Ezra and Juliet with a wink. "See you both later, then?"

Ezra shook his head. "Regretfully, I have the dusk patrol this evenin’, although I might see you afterward if you return to the saloon."

"And I’m due back at the hotel in an hour," Juliet told him. "But you’ll more than likely see me there when you come for supper."

Charlie tipped his hat in acknowledgment and led both horses away. Jesse returned his full attention to his new sister and her husband-to-be. "I have to admit, Charlie and I just about died when Jim told us there was someone else here from…back home. How many other people here know about where we’re from? I don’t want to slip in front of anyone who doesn’t."

"Only the seven of us know what happened, Mr. McLaughlin," Ezra told him. "You may still wish to avoid the subject around Mr. Jackson, however; he is openly skeptical of the whole situation and can be somewhat…abrasive."

"Yes, Artemus told us about him." Jesse grimaced slightly; Gordon had had a _lot_ to say about Nathan Jackson. "But it’s just Jesse, please; after all, you’re about to become part of the family, Mr. Standish."

The gambler smiled. "Ezra. You’ve known Agents Gordon and West for some time, then?"

"About five years," Jesse replied. "Charlie and I had the same ethical dilemma Juliet did; we had all this information that could do a lot of good in the world, but we had to find someone we could trust to share it with because it could cause a lot of harm too."

"They were the only people I could think of who might be willing to believe something so strange," Juliet agreed with a shrug. "I never watched much television back home, but my father loved the Wild Wild West; I just had my fingers crossed that the Baxter sisters were right about this being an alternate reality where fictional characters could be real."

"I wish we knew how _they_ knew that," Jesse said. "Or how they got here to begin with. Juliet, when they grabbed you in Denver do you remember seeing something that looked like a skull made of clear crystal?"

"They had something over my eyes, I couldn’t see anything," she told him regretfully. "And I was so panicked I couldn’t think straight…but I think they had something drawn out or laid out on the ground in the place they took me to, because they were very careful about where we stepped and when they pushed me down on the ground Catie warned me not to ‘disturb anything’ if I wanted to live." Ezra saw the little shudder she was trying to hold back and slid his arm around her shoulders; Juliet lifted her eyes to his for a moment and then looked back at Jesse. "They didn’t have anything like what you describe when we got here, though, and there wasn’t any place they could have hidden it that I could see."

"Nor did they have such a thing with them a month ago," Ezra added. "From what I was able to observe at the time, the two of them seemed to be waiting for something to occur and planning their own actions to coincide with it."

"Waiting for signs that the rift was about to reopen," Jesse agreed. "That’s actually a very good thing; it means they had no control over the situation once they got here…which means neither of them had harnessed the power of a crystal skull, thank god."

"You mean…like you had harnessed it?" Ezra ventured uneasily. Truth be told, the conversation had started making him nervous once ‘fictional characters’ were mentioned - he hadn’t forgotten the Baxter sisters’ uncanny knowledge of the Seven or their assertion that they had ‘watched the show back home’, and the idea that in Juliet’s world Ezra P. Standish was only a figment of someone’s imagination was unnerving to say the least. "Was such a skull the method you utilized to get here?"

"Sort of," was the other man’s answer. "I wasn’t actually trying to ‘get’ anywhere, I was just trying to rescue Charlie and Maya, my wife - she’s from South America about a thousand years ago, but that’s another story. The skull just opened a portal to get me to them and then…well, then we couldn’t get back. I ended up having to destroy the skull later on, it was just…too powerful."

Ezra relaxed noticeably once Jesse mentioned destroying the skull and Juliet covered his free hand with hers, patting it reassuringly. "But it couldn’t get you home?" she wanted to know.

Jesse smiled. "By the time I realized it could have, this _was_ home. Sure I miss modern technology sometimes, but I’d miss leading a useful life even more. I was never this happy in the twentieth century."

"I wouldn’t really want to go back either," Juliet agreed softly. "I miss my family…but I’m happier here too."

Ezra tightened his grip on her to a gentle one-armed hug. "Ah’m certainly glad to hear that."

Jesse hid another smile; now he understood why Gordon had said you couldn’t look at the gambler without seeing that he was head-over-heels in love - the emotion just radiated from him every time he looked at Juliet. He and Charlie still needed to have a man-to-man talk with Ezra about the differences between the nineteenth century and the twentieth as far as women were concerned, but so far it didn’t look to Jesse like there was going to be a problem. "So, Ezra, is your family coming to the wedding?" he asked.

"That won’t be possible," the Southerner began. "Mah mother…"

"Ezra’s mother won’t be able to attend," Juliet interrupted quickly.

_Too_ quickly. Jesse frowned, maybe there was a problem after all - but he didn’t miss the startled look that flashed across Ezra’s face, either. "Is something wrong, Juliet? Does Ezra’s family have some sort of problem with the two of you getting married?" Juliet blushed and murmured something, shaking her head, and the rancher froze. " _What_ did you just say?"

She sighed and squared her slender shoulders. "This world isn’t like ours, Jesse, and I fully understand why Ezra can’t tell his mother about me. It’s a serious thing to marry below one’s station…"

" _What_?!" Ezra almost came up off the porch. "Who could possibly have told you such a thing?"

The small woman started but gave him a slightly wounded look. "Ah’m not _stupid_ , Ezra," she said, blushing again. "The only thing anyone in town will say about your mother is that she is very proper and very concerned with appearances and _you_ won’t speak about her to me at all. Ah understand, truly ah do."

"Ah am an idiot for not anticipatin’ this," the gambler groaned. "Darlin’, you _don’t_ understand. Mah mother…"

"No, Ezra, please, you don’t have to explain." Juliet looked absolutely mortified. "Ah don’t want my…lack of breeding to cause problems for you with your family…"

Ezra cut her off by putting his hand over her mouth. "Juliet, when it comes to mah mother, _you_ causin’ any problems is the least of mah worries. And yes ah _do_ have to explain - ah should have explained weeks ago. Ah have been avoidin’ the subject and ah’m sorry. Now may ah explain, please?"

She nodded, wide-eyed, and he removed his hand. Jesse was trying hard not to laugh. "Misunderstanding?" he asked.

"Miscommunication," Ezra clarified. "Apparently more than one person around here has been operatin’ under the maxim that if one cannot say somethin’ complimentary then it is better to say nothin’ at all - which can be a very tricky proposition where Maude Standish is concerned." He captured Juliet’s hands and held them tightly in his own. "Cherie, Mother can be very proper, true, and she _is_ very concerned with appearances…but that’s because she’s a conwoman, darlin’, deceivin’ by appearances is how she makes her way in the world. And you were partially correct, ah haven’t informed her of your existence because she would be _violently_ opposed to our marriage - but she was to mah marryin’ Christina as well, and her family was so blue-blooded that the Governor and two generals were guests at our weddin’!" Seeing that he still didn’t have her completely convinced, Ezra stood up and tugged her up with him. "Ah’ll _prove_ it to you. Jesse, if you would care to join us…"

Jesse trailed the two of them up the stairs and into the house, curious to see what it was Ezra had to show them. The small two-story house, although mostly empty, already had a warm, comfortable feel to it that he knew to be a result of the love, hope and dreams the couple was pouring into it through their work to get it ready to live in - he knew this because his own house in Skull Valley possessed the same welcoming warmth, and any lingering reservations he might have had about the union between his new sister and the gambler slipped away. "This is a nice house, guys; kind of reminds me of home."

"You wouldn’t have thought that a month ago," Juliet told him. "It had been sitting empty for a very long time."

"Yes, luckily it had been quite well constructed to begin with," Ezra added. "Neglect had taken its toll, however - we’ve had to replace most of the roof. Another day or so should see that completed, thank goodness." He had unlocked a cupboard to pull out a sturdy box which he placed on the small hall table. From inside he extracted a folded letter written on fine paper and, scanning the contents thoughtfully, held it out to his fiancée. "There it is, mah proof. Judge Calloway knows Mother quite well - better than she would like, if truth be told. Ah had mentioned in mah last letter to him that ah was still debating whether or not to invite her to our weddin’, and this was his response."

Juliet took the letter and obediently dropped her eyes to the passage he indicated; Jesse moved closer so he could read over her shoulder. The firm, flowing script read:

And as to Maude: son, don’t be a fool. The only reason we avoided incident at yours and Christina’s wedding was because I had more power than Maude did and I made sure I used it. As you love this little woman, Ezra, don’t tell your mother you’re getting married until it’s done - and warn your friends what her reaction will be when she finds out so they can protect the two of you. Wish I could be there to meet the woman who finally healed your heart, but as that isn’t possible I’ve done the next best thing. Use it well and often, and with my blessing.

Ezra carefully removed a cloth-wrapped bundle from the box and set it on the table. Almost reverently he peeled away the soft, protecting layers of cloth to reveal a heavy silver punchbowl, plain but elegant and beautifully made. "This has been in their family for generations," he said softly, his fingers tracing a raised vine. "They’ve used it at every weddin’ and christenin’, and in between times it sat in state in a glass case that only the Judge carried the key to. Ah remember hearin’ him respond to someone askin’ if they might borrow it for their own occasion that it was ‘for Calloways only’."

"But he sent it to you," Jesse observed quietly.

"Yes, he did." Ezra sighed and shook his head. "Ah’m the only one left," he explained. "His daughter, his sons…the War took them all. Ah’ve kept in touch when ah could; he’d wanted me to remain at the family estate with him after ah was discharged, but he understood why ah had to leave and all he asked was that ah didn’t forget him." He fingered the bowl reverently and a slight smile crossed his face. "Ah’m not certain the name will mean anything to either of you, but this fine piece of smithwork was actually crafted by a national hero from times gone by; see, his name is here, on the base." He flipped the bowl over and held it to the light so the faded etching was clearly visible.

Jesse and Juliet both gasped when they saw it. "I’d say we know who he is," Jesse breathed. "Good god, Ezra, where we’re from that would be in a museum under lock and key!"

Juliet extended a careful finger to trace lightly over the inscription. "In the midst of a nation’s turmoil," she read. "So long as its citizens live and love there is hope for its future."

"Truer words were never spoken," Ezra said quietly, his green eyes glistening with old memories. "And there’s a story behind them as well; a hundred-odd years ago when one of the original scions of the Calloway family found it occasion to give his eldest daughter in marriage, he discovered that due to the national unrest there could be found no silversmith willing to make a wedding punchbowl save those of a political persuasion that was an anathema to him and his family. He was told by all others he inquired of that it would be a shame to craft so frivolous an item under such circumstances, and several of them indeed admonished him for planning a wedding party at all; the union should be solemnized in the church in a subdued manner, he was told, with no unseemly gaiety or celebration. The proud father despaired for a time but continued to search, not wishing to deprive his beloved daughter of the joy and merriment that a happy bride is entitled to," here a slightly troubled expression flickered across Ezra’s face and just as quickly disappeared, "and he finally encountered an artisan who disagreed with the stand taken by the others of his trade and said he would be honored to make the bowl. The inscription was Revere’s own sentiment, and the bowl has been kept by the Calloway family as a treasured heirloom evah since that time."

"And we shall continue to treasure it," Juliet told him. She took the bowl from him and carefully re-wrapped it before putting it back in the box and replacing the lid. Then she took his hands in hers and looked up into his eyes with a troubled frown. "You could have told me about your mother, Ezra."

He squeezed those small, capable hands and shook his head. "Ah didn’t know how to approach the subject, darlin’. How is a man supposed to explain to the woman he loves that his mother will be hell-bent on destroyin’ them both as soon as she learns of her existence? Juliet, ah’ve just been thankin’ mah lucky stars that Mother hasn’t attempted to visit me recently!"

"Sounds like you’re afraid of her," Jesse observed. The gambler made a motion in the direction of being offended, but the rancher shook his head. "Also sounds like you’ve got good reason to be, Ezra, I didn’t mean any offence. How exactly did the Judge handle her before? The letter said he had ‘more power than Maude did,’ what kind of power did he mean? Political or financial?"

"Money is an attractant to Mother, not a deterrent," Ezra answered with a sigh. "He called in some favors, basically let word get out that anyone attemptin’ to molest a member of the Calloway family - and that included me - would face the harshest possible recriminations. Mother fled the state after one of her more unsavory ‘acquaintances’ proved the validity of the threat."

Jesse noticed that the man didn’t say what the ‘acquaintance’ had done, but there was a look in his green eyes that left no doubt in Jesse’s mind whom it had been done to. "But here, your friends…" Juliet began.

"Are vulnerable to her machinations in ways the Judge was not," the gambler interrupted sadly. "Ah still believe it was no coincidence that Mr. Tanner’s demons tracked him down and Mr. Wilmington was beset by a rather distractin’ problem of his own at about the same time that ah had in a roundabout way announced my intention to stay in Four Corners indefinitely." He bit his lip, looking down into her face with troubled green eyes. "And now ah’m announcin’ it again, and ah can’t be sure that ah can prevent history from repeatin’ itself."

"History only repeats itself when we don’t learn from it," Jesse stated thoughtfully. He knew that he himself had been lucky that way; Charlie had remembered the lessons a hellacious week in the McLaughlin family’s ancestral home had taught him and had applied what he’d learned at a time when Jesse had been too deep in the thrall of the Skull to notice whose decaying footsteps he was following in. "Ezra, have you shared any of this with anyone else?"

The gambler frowned and shook his head. "Ah discussed the situation privately with Mr. Larabee and it is entirely possible he may have mentioned it to Judge Travis, but to the best of my knowledge they are the only ones who know the situation."

"Nope, that’s not enough," Jesse told him. "See, that’s what happened last time; no one else knew to expect trouble and you didn’t know what kind it would be, so everyone was caught unprepared. But this time…Ezra, what if this time _everyone_ knew?"

Understanding began to dawn on Ezra’s face, but Juliet looked dubious. "This isn’t the sort of thing you can just go around _telling_ people, though; and even if you could, quite a few of them probably wouldn’t take it seriously."

"That’s why _we_ won’t tell them, cherie." The gambler’s grin widened to expose his gold tooth. "If Jesse and I are thinkin’ along the same lines, all we need to do is discuss the matter with the others tonight in the saloon and gossip will take care of the rest."

"This is a small town, word will spread like wildfire," Jesse chimed in. "Within a few days you two will be safer than the gold at Fort Knox!"

Juliet laughed, but Ezra gave them both a blank look. Jesse made a face. "I don’t suppose _you_ remember when the federal reserve started being kept at Fort Knox, do you, Juliet?" he asked, a little plaintively.

She thought for a moment and then shook her head. "Apparently it hasn’t yet," was the rueful answer. "Pity one of us wasn’t a history major, it might come in handy."

"I’ve thought that myself more than once over the years," Jesse admitted. "But the closest I ever got was taking History of Art - and I think I made a C in that."

"I was making a B in European History, but that hasn’t helped me much here," Juliet told him. "And a lot of what I thought I knew about American history turned out to be wrong."

"You weren’t wrong about the War," Ezra observed quietly. "You knew a good deal about that."

He immediately had her full attention; Juliet knew that thinking about the War that had taken so much from him was difficult for the man she loved. "Only because my grandmother told me, ma cher," she replied. "She told Michael and I all the stories her grandmother had told her, she taught us to be proud of our heritage as Southerners and as Cajuns." She lifted one small hand to gently touch his cheek. "She would have loved you - Grandmere always said I should marry a true Southern gentleman, but she never thought we’d be able to find one."

Ezra captured the dainty hand and kissed it. "And whether you have or not is a mattah of opinion, cherie, but you are certainly worthy of one so ah shall definitely do mah best." He abruptly remembered they weren’t alone and colored slightly. "Oh, mah apologies, Jesse."

"None needed," the other man chuckled. "You’re actually setting my mind at rest, here - although you’re making me miss Maya something awful." He moved a little closer and cautiously put a hand on his new sister’s shoulder. "The thing I was most worried about was whether you were going to be happy here, Juliet, and I’m really glad to see that you are."

Juliet blinked up at him…and then Jesse found himself on the receiving end of a very impulsive hug that he was more than happy to return. They broke apart just as quickly when Juliet heard a wagon go by outside in the street. "Oh no, that’s the milk wagon, either he’s early or I’m late! I’ll see you at supper, Jesse - be sure you tell Mrs. Abbott who you are." She went up on tiptoe to kiss her fiancé and then was out the door before either man could say a word.

"I don’t suppose your uncle happened to mention how industrious your sister is?" Ezra asked with a slight smile.

"He mentioned quite a bit about it," was the thoughtful reply. Jesse cocked an eyebrow at the gambler. "Artemus mentioned quite a bit about a lot of things he noticed while he was here. Do we still have a problem with Mr. Jackson?"

Ezra shrugged. "He’s keepin’ his problem to himself, and so long as he does ah have no problem with him. It has been made clear to him, however, that if he evah again airs his opinion around Juliet his problem will be solved by a bullet fired from mah gun."

Jesse didn’t doubt that for a minute. "How about Catie Baxter? Has there been any sign of her?"

"No, she hasn’t reappeared," the gambler told him. "We’ve made it generally known that we don’t believe her foolish enough to return to the area."

"Do _you_ think she’ll come back?" Jesse wanted to know, hearing what Ezra wasn’t saying. "I’m pretty sure from what I’ve heard that she doesn’t actually need Juliet any more, but…"

"But her kind don’t like to lose, and now her prime motivator will be revenge instead of necessity," Ezra said. "And a lifetime of prior experience with her kind," he patted the letter that still lay on top of the box, "tells me Miss Baxter will definitely be back…when we least expect her."

 

Chris came out of the Clarion office and scanned the street…then he scanned it again. In spite of what he’d told the judge a week ago, not having caught Catie Baxter was still worrying him. Like Ezra, he knew she wasn’t the type to just ride off into oblivion and never be seen again, and his instincts warned him that she would eventually come back for Juliet—and possibly to seek revenge on the rest of them as well. So far, though, there had been no sign of her and Chris was finding it easier and easier to push his worry aside in the face of other considerations…like wondering if Ezra had checked his stovepipe for soundness yet or if the gambler had been repairing loose shingles in the hot sun for too long. He decided that he would have to check on things himself tomorrow, no one was taking him seriously about the stovepipe.

He entered the saloon mostly unnoticed and spotted Nathan sharing a drink with Vin. "You know, he’s been puttin’ up a good show of workin’ awful hard," he heard the black man observe cautiously. "But Ezra sure takes a whole lotta breaks over the course of the day, almost like he’s sickly or somethin’ - bet they’d already have that roof done if he’d work straight through. Wonder why he don’t just…" The healer saw something flicker in the tracker’s eyes and his own widened as a new thought occurred to him. "He _has_ been sickly at some point, ain’t he? That’s why…"

"Reckon Ez takes right good care of himself," was the noncommittal reply. "Man knows how far he can push his own self, and if he’s smart he don’t push no further—or let nobody else do it, neither."

There had been a tinge of accusation in that last statement and a shudder ran through Nathan where no one could see it, through the part of him that was a healer first and felt responsible for his friends’ well being. It had been right under his nose for almost three years and he had ignored it. He had told anyone who would listen on numerous occasions that the gambler just didn’t like to work, that he was as lazy as they come, only to realize now that maybe, just maybe Ezra wasn’t _lazy_ , Ezra was _careful_. Not allowing himself to get either chilled or overheated, not working himself too hard or too long; it was the practice of a man who’s been sick before and doesn’t want to repeat the experience. And once he thought about it, Nathan realized that the other men knew what was going on and had been helping the Southerner pace himself—he hadn’t been alone on the roof of the house since that first day, at least one of the others always working beside him or stopping by to entice him down for a rest. They _all_ knew.

And they hadn’t told Nathan, the town’s only healer. It didn’t make sense.

"Why didn’t you say somethin’?" he asked Vin quietly. "Why didn’t one of you tell me? Did Ezra tell you not to?"

The tracker shrugged. "He didn’t have to. I suggested once a long time ago that you might be able to help, but he pointed out to me that you probably wouldn’t believe him anyway and if you did you would more than likely try to kill him once it sank in where he must’ve got it. And I figured he was right, so I left it alone. We’ve all been keepin’ an eye on him; Josiah knows about them swamp fevers, he told us what to look for."

"Swamp fever…" It was even worse than the healer had thought; the only people who have to worry about swamp fever coming back on them are the ones who’ve had it so bad they almost died. Something else occurred to him. _You would more than likely…_ "I guess he got it during the War, didn’t he?"

"He got honorably discharged because of it," Chris confirmed, taking a seat next to Vin. He gave the startled healer a thoughtful look; Nathan had been asking a lot of questions about their resident gambler lately - asking everyone except the man himself, of course. "What’s on your mind, Jackson?"

"I’ve gone out of my way to make extra work for him, more than once," Nathan said slowly. "Tickled me to death to see him sweat, to see him pantin’ in the heat…to see him so worn out he was staggerin’. Told myself it was for his own good." The healer sighed, wrapping his fingers around his glass and staring at the wet ring it had made on the scarred tabletop. "I could have killed him, a dozen times over…and I thought it was the best joke ever."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Finally Chris cleared his throat. "You didn’t know, Nathan…"

"I should have known." Dark brown eyes lifted to meet turquoise blue, full of shame. "I’m a healer, Chris; if I seen that kind of behavior from anyone else, I’d have thought about it an’ maybe asked some questions—hell, if it’d been anyone else, they would have been able to tell me flat out, maybe ask for my help." … _And I figured he was right_ … "But I managed to let men who ride beside me every day know that this healer can’t be trusted to do the right thing if it’s a Southerner’s life on the line."

"Not any Southerner," Vin corrected quietly. "Just Ezra. Ain’t never got the feeling you have a problem with me—but then, I don’t sound like I just stepped outta the big house to order my darkies around, neither."

Chris choked on that one and Nathan’s jaw dropped; it hadn’t been said maliciously, just the flat, laconic way Vin said almost everything…no, what shocked him was that it rang true. And the gambler wasn’t the only person in town with one of those damning accents; was it true about Juliet too? He had to admit to himself that it could be; the little woman no more acted like a typical Southern belle than Ezra did a typical Southern gambler, but the honeyed drawl was there no matter how faint and it might have prejudiced him against her. The healer frowned, going over what he knew about Ezra’s fiancée in light of this new idea…and realized with a start that, divorced from the taint of her heritage and her association with the gambler, Juliet was a person he otherwise might have respected, perhaps even admired. He began to wonder uneasily if the same might be said for Ezra…

"Aw, you boys did it again." Buck’s amused drawl startled him out of his thoughts. "Lately every time I see Nate one of you has said somethin’ to him that sets him off thinkin’ all hard like he ain’t never done it before."

Vin chuckled and Chris just grinned and shook his head. "Patrol go okay?"

"Everything’s quiet," the ladies’ man confirmed, dropping into a chair and snagging the bottle that sat on the table. "JD’s over at the jail and Josiah’s…um, sortin’ out the schedule."

"He done figured it out, Buck," Vin informed him. "You can just come right out and say it."

The ladies’ man grinned and slapped a startled Nathan on the back. "Wondered when ya would—ain’t like ya haven’t been watchin’ him enough lately. Josiah said if we all pitch in tomorrow mornin’ we’ll have that roof done."

Chris leaned back in his chair and stretched out his long legs under the table. "We can do that; give me a chance to..."

"Check the stovepipe, we know." Buck got comfortable too. "Judge get off okay?"

"Thank God yes," was Larabee’s heartfelt reply. The black-clad gunslinger sighed and shook his head. "I sure do hate it when he’s in town with nothin’ to do - he’s as nosy as an old woman and he makes everyone skittish as hell."

"Not to mention you can’t go over to see Miz Travis all the time with him there," Vin teased. "Went straight over after the stage left, didn’t ya?"

Chris growled at him good-naturedly but didn’t deny it. A tall man entered the saloon just then, taking off his hat and running a hand through short brown hair while he looked around the room; his pale blue eyes met Buck’s darker ones at the same time, recognition catching like flint on tinder. "Buck?"

"Charlie?" Buck looked astounded and then broke into a broad grin. "You son of a gun, what are you doin’ around these parts? You’re a long ways from home!"

"And you’re a long way from the last place I saw you," Charlie countered. He sauntered over to the table and slapped Buck on the back. "Damn good to see you again, Buck!"

"Boys, this is Charlie Corielle," Buck told his friends. "He’s the foreman over to the Skull Valley Ranch down in Arizona Territory, ‘bout two or three days’ ride from here. Charlie, you remember me tellin’ you about Chris, right? And these other two are Vin and Nathan; we’re some of the law around here."

Charlie nodded. "Pleasure to meet you all, I’m sure. I rode in with Jesse just a little while ago," he answered Buck’s earlier question as he sat down on the chair his friend kicked out for him. "Say, if you all are the law then you must know Ezra Standish, right?"

"Yeah, he’s one of us," Chris replied suspiciously. Then his expression cleared. "Wait, you rode in with Jesse _McLaughlin_? Jim West’s friend?" At Charlie’s nod - he was the one to be suspicious now - Chris laughed. "Well, all I can say is it’s a small world, boys; Jesse is Miss Julie’s older brother."

Everyone relaxed except Nathan, who frowned. Charlie saw the grimace and cocked a questioning eyebrow at Buck, who rolled his eyes and shook his head. Then Buck’s expression changed and he sat slowly upright in his chair. "Wait just a minute…Charlie, that mean you’re from the same place they are?"

The other man started slightly. "You know about that?" he asked cautiously. "Yeah, I’m from…the same place. We’ve been here going on six years now." Charlie read acceptance on three faces and suspicion on the fourth; he wasn’t the kind of man to let that slide. "You got a problem with that?" he asked the frowning black man.

Nathan thought about it. "Yeah, kind of," he replied slowly.

Charlie nodded. "Least you’re honest," he said. He appropriated Buck’s glass and took a drink. "That’s why we came to Four Corners, actually, to make sure it was safe for Juliet to stay here. Jim said it was okay, but Jess and Artemus were both nervous about a couple things and Jess is kind of overprotective when it comes to his family..."

"He ain’t her brother," the healer protested softly. "And Agent Gordon ain’t her uncle."

The other men froze, but to their surprise Charlie relaxed in his chair with a wry grin. "I wouldn’t try to tell them that if I were you," he chuckled.

"Don’t think anyone plans to," Chris answered, shooting an irritated look at the Nathan. "So how’d you meet Buck, Charlie?"

Charlie and Buck looked at each other and exchanged almost identical smirks. "Sharin’," they both said at the same time. "It was just a couple weeks before I came to Four Corners," Buck filled in. "I was ridin’ through town and ol’ Charlie here was in for some supplies, and we run into a situation at the local saloon while we was both tryin’ to get someone to keep us company for the night—seems they just didn’t have enough ladies on hand to supply the demand."

"Poor girl that was left didn’t want to disappoint either of us," Charlie continued. "So she asked if we’d mind sharing and we both said no."

"It was either that or sleep in the barn; it was a cold night," Buck explained, a little too quickly.

"Kinda expected you to say somethin’ like that," Vin drawled, a wicked twinkle in his eye; Chris chuckled into his whiskey when both Charlie and Buck blushed and even Nathan was having a hard time keeping a straight face. "Figured it would either be that or you sayin’ you was both drunk."

The two men looked at each other, and then Charlie broke into a grin and winked at Vin. "Well, I know _I_ was."

Buck flushed even redder but made a show of looking his friend up and down. "Shit, I _must_ have been."

JD came in while they were all still laughing and looked at the blushing ladies’ man curiously but didn’t comment. "Hey, there’s this chestnut stallion down at the livery…"

Charlie sobered at once and straightened in his chair. "He’s mine." He took in the badge. "There a problem, Sheriff?"

"He’s yours? Oh no, there’s no problem; you just don’t often see a horse like that around these parts." JD plopped into the nearest available chair and tipped back his hat. "He’s magnificent."

Charlie puffed up with pride and Buck groaned. "Oh lord, here we go," he muttered. "JD, this here is my friend," Vin snickered and the ladies’ man shot him a dirty look, "Charlie Corielle, and he happens to be just as horse-obsessed as you and Ez are."

"JD Dunne," the younger man introduced himself. "If you don’t mind my askin’, Mr. Corielle, what’s his bloodline?"

Charlie shrugged. "It’s just Charlie, and I have no idea. He belonged to the outlaw that killed Jesse’s family and kidnapped his wife; Zombie was…well, he was in pretty bad shape when we found him but Jess fixed him up good as new and gave him to me. Whatever he is he breeds true, though; I make a pretty penny putting him up for stud, let me tell you."

Chris’ eyes narrowed slightly; this was a part of the story West hadn’t shared with him. "Killed his family and kidnapped his wife? Does this kind of luck just _follow_ you people here?"

"You people…" JD’s eyes widened. "You mean you’re from…Denver?"

"Denver? No, I’m from Sacramento…" Charlie suddenly remembered what West and Gordon had said about the rift and nodded slowly. "Forgot you boys had seen…Denver, sorry. Yeah, Sheriff, sort of; even with the fifteen-year difference it would probably look about the same to you."

"How is it you claim to’ve been here six years but she’s from fifteen years after you?" Nathan spoke up.

Charlie gave him a funny look and Buck snorted. "Don’t mind him, Charlie; he wasn’t there and it ain’t half the kind of thing you can explain to a person without soundin’ like you’re plumb crazy. What did you all do with the outlaw?"

"Jesse blew his head off," the other man answered simply; he decided it wouldn’t be worth it trying to explain the logistics involved in trying to kill a dead man. "Bastard had already killed Gramps and tried to hang me and Maya—and he shot Jess twice."

"Who was he?" Chris wanted to know. "Was it some sort of feud?"

"Sort of," was the answer. "He’d been Gramps’ partner from way back, they had a falling out over…what belonged to who down in Mexico that ended with Slim getting left behind, and he apparently wasn’t one to let that kind of thing go. Slim Rieser, that was his name."

The crash of a chair hitting the floor startled them all. Old Bertram Day appeared to be the one responsible for the disruption, but his eyes were glued to Charlie. "Somethin’ wrong, Bert?" Vin asked, worried; the old man looked like he’d seen a ghost.

Charlie took one look and knew that he had. "I’m guessing you’ve been out to the ghost town some time back, haven’t you?" he observed quietly. "Ran into Slim out there, huh?"

"I seen him." Day left his overturned chair and hobbled over to stare down at Charlie. "You said this Jesse of your’n kilt him? You sure?"

"I’m sure," the younger man answered gravely. "Jess told me it took four shells before the bastard quit getting up, and then…well, and then the house burned. Or rather the saloon did, same difference."

"I seen the house," the old man told him in a low voice. "Seen it through the window of that old saloon. Burned with him on the other side, the house side?" At Charlie’s nod he appeared to relax. "Good riddance to him, then - ‘mind me to buy your friend Jesse a drink sometime. Gonna be in town a while?"

"Just a couple days, this time," Charlie informed him. "We rode in so he could see his little sister before the wedding, he just found out she was here."

"Brother to little Miz Julie, is he?" Day’s lined face lit up. "I’d say that’s right; always knew that girl come from good stock. Reminds me of my mother, she does." He stuck out one gnarled hand which Charlie shook gravely and gave a nod to the other men before hobbling out of the saloon.

"That was Bertram Day," Chris informed Charlie. "He’s been around these parts since before there was a town here."

"And he don’t rattle easy," Vin said thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. "That Reiser fella must’ve been bad news."

"He was." Charlie decided to change the subject - he did not want to think about Slim Reiser, much less talk about him. "So how long have you been hanging around here, Buck? You were just kind of driftin’ when I last saw you."

"Been peacekeepin’ here durn near three years, me and the rest of the boys," the ladies’ man answered. "I’m afraid I’ve gotten plumb settled in."

"Reckon we all have," Vin added with a lazy grin, sipping his whiskey. "Ain’t somethin’ anybody expected."

"Just like no one expected Ez to be the one to be gettin’ married first," was Chris’ wry comment. "Damned if he didn’t find the perfect woman, too - those two are a matched set if I ever saw one."

There was a murmur of agreement from the other peacekeepers but Nathan muttered something that sounded like ‘ _that ain’t all good_ ’ and Charlie’s eyes narrowed. "Mr. Jackson, I think you’d better cough up whatever it is that’s stuck in your craw before it chokes you," he said evenly but without humor. "And you’d better do it before Jesse comes in here, because if it’s anything like what I think then you for damn sure don’t want to bring it up with him."

Nathan was taken aback. "I didn’t really mean nothin’ by it, I was jus’ thinkin’ out loud."

"Bad habit, that," Charlie observed quietly. "Dangerous, even."

"So I’ve been told." The healer flicked a glance at his friends. "Been tryin’ to do somethin’ about that…"

"Ain’t tryin’ hard enough, I think," Chris told him. "You know, Jackson, every time I think we’re gettin’ this problem of yours licked you go and prove me wrong. I’m startin’ to think Gordon was right about you bein’ one of those people that has to learn the hard way."

That surprised Nathan, but before he could say anything else Charlie tuned slightly and looked over toward the doors. "Here’s our chance to find out," he said, then raised one arm and called out, "Jess! Over here!"

The man who had just stepped through the doors turned, smiled and headed in their direction. He was on the short side and compactly built with longish light brown hair and an easygoing smile. That and his pronounced limp might have fooled a casual observer into thinking him harmless, but the tied-down gun at his side and the flicker of watchfulness in his brown eyes as he scanned the saloon before coming toward them said otherwise. "Damn, are you sure he’s Miss Julie’s brother and not Ezra’s?" Buck exclaimed softly. "Him and Ez and Jim West look like three peas out of the same pod."

"Noticed that myself," Charlie chuckled. He pulled out a chair for his best friend and grinned at him. "Jess, you remember me telling you about meeting Buck in town a few years back? Well, this is Buck."

"Nice to finally meet you, Buck," Jesse said, shaking hands with the mustached cowboy before sitting down. "Heard an awful lot about you from Charlie."

"We can just imagine," Vin commented, drawing a blush from the ladies’ man. "I’m Vin, and this here’s Chris, JD and Nathan. Guess you already met Ez, huh?"

"Yep, he had a patrol to run and my sister had to get back to work so I headed on over here," Jesse answered. "Pleasure to meet all of you. I’m Jesse, but I’m guessing you already knew that. So is everything okay, Charlie?"

"Pretty much like we expected," his friend said with a shrug - they had known about Nathan before they arrived, his behavior had only confirmed what Gordon had already told them. "How ‘bout you?"

"I miss Maya," Jesse told him ruefully. "Those two are so much in love that it hurts. We do appear to have one serious problem, though."

Charlie leaned forward with a troubled frown - which was mirrored by the other men at the table. "What happened after I left, Jess?"

"We all talked," was the answer. "I didn’t think there was going to be any problem at all until I happened to ask Ezra if his family was coming to the wedding and Juliet just about had kittens trying to change the subject. Somehow she’d gotten the impression that no one would talk about it because they didn’t want to come right out and tell her she wasn’t good enough for Ezra’s family." Jesse raised his voice to cut through the little storm of disbelief and denial that comment produced. "Luckily Ezra was able to clear up the misunderstanding and he explained to us about his mother. Now what I want to know is this; what do you all plan to do to protect my sister from Maude Standish?"

There were a few startled gasps - and not all of them from the men at the table. Chris shot a quick look around the saloon. "Ez told me he was worried," the gunslinger said. "But as long as his mother don’t know he’s getting married we shouldn’t have any problems."

"As long as she doesn’t find out," Jesse corrected. "But eventually she’s going to and then it’s going to hit the fan. Do any of you know what exactly it was she tried to do to him the last time he got married?"

Everyone looked at Chris, who shook his head. "He wouldn’t tell me, but he got this look on his face…I know it must have been bad. What did he tell you?"

Jesse sighed. "He showed Juliet and I the letter his father-in-law sent, he said the man knows his mother all too well. The judge thought he should tell you boys everything so you could protect he and Juliet, but Ezra says you all are vulnerable to her in ways the old man wasn’t and he doesn’t want to endanger any of you again."

"Wait a minute, I’m gettin’ confused here," Buck interjected. "Are we talkin’ about Ezra’s first wife’s daddy or about Judge Travis?"

"And what do you mean, ‘again’?" Nathan added suspiciously.

"Back down, Jackson," Vin said sharply. "Didn’t have nothin’ to do with you so it ain’t none of your business." He waited until he was certain the healer was going to subside and then returned his attention to Jesse. "Ez told you about what she did? Did he tell you all of it?"

Jesse shook his head. "He just said it happened when he’d let it be known he was planning to stay here indefinitely - and I don’t know about any Judge Travis, Buck, Ezra’s father-in-law is a Judge Calloway."

He might as well have set a stick of dynamite in the center of the table, judging by the reactions the name produced; Chris fended off the accusing looks he was getting with upraised hands. "I didn’t know myself until just over a week ago, simmer down," he said. Seeing Jesse and Charlie’s mystification he grinned. "Judge Calloway was a real important man in Virginia, let’s just leave it at that."

"And he wouldn’t have let just any man marry his daughter, either," Buck added, recovering himself. "God damn, you think Gordon and West knew about this, Chris?"

"Certain of it," the gunslinger replied with a very smug smile. "Jim said they’d checked us all out before they came here, and Gordon was all for his niece’s marriage before he even met Ezra."

"He told us Juliet couldn’t have found a better husband," Jesse confirmed with a smile of his own, which just as quickly disappeared. "Now we just need to figure out what to do about the mother-in-law that comes with him."

"Well hell, if Ez can’t figure it out I don’t see how any of us are goin’ to," Buck said with conviction. "That woman’s as slippery as a damn snake."

"An’ every bit as poisonous," Vin concurred. "How’d she find out about his saloon anyways, does anybody know?"

"He writes to her all the time…" JD offered.

"Yeah, but he wouldn’t have told her about buyin’ the saloon until it was a done deal," Buck disagreed. "And that plan of hers that cleared us all out of her way didn’t happen overnight; takes time to set up a thing like that if you expect it to work."

Chris nodded grimly. "Which means Ezra ain’t the only one around here who writes Miss Maude."

Josiah, who had just come in, cleared his throat. "I’m afraid that was me, brothers," he admitted, startling them all. He pulled up a chair beside Nathan and folded his large hands on the table. _Yep, a man’s sins always seek him out_. "You all know I was somewhat enamored of Miss Maude…"

"Yeah, we’d kind of gathered that," Buck commented dryly. "So you been spyin’ on Ezra for her all this time?"

"No! No, when she first came to visit him, before she left she took me aside and asked if I would send her a letter now and then and maybe let her know how her baby boy was doin’," Josiah told them. "Didn’t have no reason to think anything was amiss, just a mother worryin’ about her only son, so I told her I’d be happy to. And then…"

"And then she damn near got me killed, Buck here married and took everything Ez had," Vin ground out. Nathan sat bolt upright in his chair, but the tracker ignored him. "You realize he almost left town ‘cause of that, Preacher? Blamed himself for the whole mess, slunk around like a kicked dog for weeks even after I talked him into stayin’…and you could have put a stop to it any time just by tellin’ him you made a stupid mistake?"

The big man fidgeted and looked away. "Ain’t written to her since."

"Well, that’s something, anyway," Chris said, cutting Vin off before he could say anything else; they had enough to deal with right now without stirring up problems long since set aside. "Means her leak’s been plugged, that’s one less thing for us to worry about. Does anyone know where she is right now?"

"Ezra said her last letter came from San Francisco," Jesse answered. "But she was on the move when she sent it and he has no idea where she is right now."

"Which mean’s the snake’s in the grass where we won’t see it ‘till someone steps on it," Buck observed unhappily.

Chris started to say something…and then he saw Jesse glance around the saloon again with a strangely satisfied expression on his face. Looking around himself, he noticed that the room was abuzz with conversation and from the furtive looks being cast at their table those conversations were more than likely about them. He raised an eyebrow at the rancher. "Grass fire?"

Jesse nodded. "Burn the grass, the snake has nowhere to hide," he confirmed quietly but with a conspiratorial wink. "I don’t usually talk so loud when I’m discussing family business, you know."

For a moment everyone just stared, and a few of the men looked around the saloon in wonderment. Then Buck started to chuckle and smiles broke out all around the table. "Oh, I think we can overlook it this time," the ladies’ man said, slapping the smaller man on the back. "You were protectin' one of your own, after all - and we’re all family too."

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Gloria, do you have that list ready?” Mary called out as she swept into the dry goods store. “It’s all settled, we’re going to Eagle Bend tomorrow morning with the wagon so I can bring back anything you need.”

“Oh, that’s a relief,” the storekeeper replied. “I’m short on sugar and we’re most definitely going to be needing a barrel of it. I’ve got that list right here.” She handed Mary a half-sheet of foolscap after scanning it one last time to make sure she hadn’t left anything off. “I’ll run over to the bank later to get the money for you. And I’ve also got the list of things Julie needs to buy for her trousseau - and mind you make her get all of it, too, before she spends a single penny on things for the house. That’s all I’ve heard is furniture and rugs and things for her kitchen…”

Mary smiled indulgently. “She’s just excited, Gloria. I’m sure she knows she needs more clothes.”

“I wish _I_ could be sure,” Gloria snorted. Two more scraps of foolscap appeared, one of them looking quite a bit more worn than the other. The storekeeper handed over the worn one first. “We went over and over this, but it was finally Meg who convinced her that she needed it all – don’t know what we would have done without that girl this past month, that I don’t.” She didn’t miss the flash of disapproval that crossed Mary’s face at the mention of the working girl who’d become Juliet’s best friend, but she ignored it; Mary, at times, could be a little stiff about propriety and it wasn’t worth it to argue with her. She handed over the last list. “And here’s what she needs for Julie’s wedding dress, and for making two more regular dresses for her if they don’t have anything ready-made that will fit.”

“Which I’m almost positive they won’t,” Mary said with a sigh, looking over the list the working girl had written out, finding herself a little surprised at the girl’s neat, plain hand. Meg was a talented seamstress, that she had to admit, but she still didn’t think it was proper for any of them – especially Juliet – to associate with her in a familiar manner. Gloria had already made it quite plain to the newspaperwoman, however, that who her surrogate daughter associated with was _her_ call to make and not Mary’s, and so Mary did her best to bite her tongue when the subject came up. She scanned the lists and then tucked them away in her pocket. “I think we’ll be able to find everything else, though. Have you decided what to do about the wedding cake yet?”

“I’ve had four women just this week ask me if they could make it—go out of their way to ask me, no less,” Gloria told her. “We’re going to have to decide what to do about it sooner rather than later, I think, or they’re likely to start fighting amongst themselves.”

Mary thought about it. “We could make a stack cake,” she suggested. “That way everyone that wants to can take part and there won’t be any hard feelings to spoil the day.”

“I should have thought of that myself,” Gloria agreed, relieved. “I’ll start passing the word today, then, and everyone can work it out for themselves.” She smiled, eyes twinkling. “And if it’s to be a stack cake, that will certainly stop Julie trying to make it herself—I could tell she thought I was making it up when I told her it was bad luck.”

Mary sighed again, shaking her head. “That girl doesn’t know _anything_ ,” she said. “It just makes me want to sit her down sometimes and _make_ her tell me exactly where she’s from, but…”

“But?” The storekeeper cocked an eyebrow. “Mr. Larabee asked you not to?”

“He didn’t ask; he ordered and so did Orrin.” The newspaperwoman scowled. “They said I wasn’t even to bring it up—and when I tried to get a little more information out of that uncle of hers _he_ told me that the family history was ‘tragic’ and requested that I not upset his niece, and her brother told me last week that he came west with his grandfather when she was just a child and he didn’t even know anything about her until the uncle told him she was here. But I know for a fact that all seven of those men know _exactly_ what’s going on…”

“But they won’t say anything,” Gloria finished for her, torn between amusement at her friend’s frustrated curiosity and the protective instinct she had toward the young woman who had become like a daughter to her. She made a decision; in spite of Chris Larabee’s threat and Artemus Gordon’s request, she knew that Mary’s curiosity would eventually get the better of her - and the newspaperwoman would be alone with Juliet for a good three days when they went to Eagle Bend. “Mary, right after Julie’s uncle arrived in town with his partner, Mr. Standish came to see me and insisted that we talk…alone.” She saw that she had Mary’s full attention and sat down on the stool behind the counter with a sigh. “He was so shaken I…I didn’t know what to think. He wanted to know if Julie ever had nightmares.”

Mary couldn’t help herself. “Does she?”

Gloria nodded. “Oh yes. Not so many anymore, but at first I would hear her talk in her sleep and some of the things she said made my blood run cold.” Her pale blue eyes lifted from her hands to the deeper, inquisitive blue orbs staring down at her. “It had to have been the War, Mary; I’d guessed that already, the way she’s so skittish around Mr. Jackson. Mr. Standish wouldn’t tell me for certain, of course, but he said if I loved her I would never ask…anything. And I do, so I won’t.” A determined expression appeared on her face. “And you won’t either; that child has been through enough,” she said firmly. “I know you wouldn’t hurt her on purpose, but I have a better idea than you do what kind of horrors she left behind in Louisiana and that’s where they need to stay. And they aren’t the kind of demons that will follow her here, so it really isn’t anyone’s concern.”

The newspaperwoman frowned at that. “But the Baxter sisters…”

“Are gone,” the storekeeper countered firmly. “And that had nothing to do with the War, or Louisiana, or really even with Julie herself; they just needed a particular kind to do whatever evil thing they were intent on doing out there and even Mr. Larabee thinks they most likely chose her because she was small and they thought she wouldn’t give them as much trouble.”

“That whole story about a virgin sacrifice still sounds odd to me,” Mary sniffed. “Even the Indians don’t do such things, in spite of what some people think. How does anyone know what they were really trying to do? Maybe it was some sort of feud.”

“You don’t cut someone’s heart out because of a feud,” Gloria maintained. “And those two devilish girls tried, Julie has the scar to prove it, right here.” She drew a line with her finger to illustrate where the slash had been inflicted and saw Mary’s eyes widen. “I meant what I said, Mary, that child has been through enough and she needs all of us to let her put it behind her. Now are you going to be able to reign in that curiosity of yours for three days or should I have Jenny tell Julie that she can’t spare her right now?”

“I’d like to know that too,” Chris said quietly from the doorway, startling them both. The expression on his face was grave but not threatening. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop but I’m kind of glad I did, considering.”

Mary’s temper started to flare again. “Spying on me now, Mr. Larabee?”

“Nope. Was coming in to buy some oil for my gun, as a matter of fact.” He came the rest of the way in, taking off his hat as he did. “Mrs. Potter.”

“Mr. Larabee.” Gloria welcomed him with a smile and then gave the newspaperwoman a scolding look. “Mary, behave yourself; he was as surprised to see you here as you were to see him. You knew about the trip to Eagle Bend, then, Mr. Larabee?”

“Ezra told me when he relieved me at the jail,” he told her. “He’s worried half to death already and she isn’t even gone yet.”

Mary wasn’t quite ready to drop her grudge yet. “I’m surprised he didn’t forbid her to go,” she sniffed.

To her surprise, a slow smile crossed the gunslinger’s face and he shook his head; Gloria looked amused as well. “You must be thinking of someone else,” Chris chuckled. “Ezra doesn’t do things that way - and you must not have been around the two of ‘em much lately if you think he wouldn’t let her have anything she wanted. He’s just worried to have her out of his sight, that’s all. He’s even holding on to the money she pulled out of the bank for the trip until tomorrow morning.”

A troubled look crossed Gloria’s face. “They went to the bank, then?”

“Yep.” Chris hastened to reassure her. “Ezra said Miss Julie’s okay with it, just a little shocked.”

“Jenny won’t have to worry about doing much baking tomorrow, then,” was the storekeeper’s wry reply; Juliet’s way of dealing with an upsetting experience was to keep herself very, very busy, which would doubtless translate into a flurry of activity in the hotel kitchen. She saw Mary’s questioning, half irritated expression and sighed. “Oh dear, I suppose we do need to tell you about _that_ , don’t we? Julie’s brother is…well, the family is…”

“Filthy, stinking rich,” Chris supplied with a dry chuckle, quoting Charlie Corielle. “Now we have two reasons to keep Ezra’s mother from finding out he’s gettin’ married - although I think if Maude tries to tangle with Jesse she’ll be biting off a sight more than she can chew.”

“Rich?” For Mary, several things suddenly dropped into place. The kidnapping made sense now, and the secrecy…even the so-called ‘sacrifice’ seemed understandable. Mr. McLaughlin hadn’t known about his sister so a ransom demand wouldn’t have made much impression on him, and the uncle by his own admission had been out of the country. And then of course Juliet had added insult to injury by escaping and had even killed the outlaw the kidnappers had sent to get her back. The newspaperwoman relaxed, happy that she’d figured out the mystery and that it was nothing that would bode ill for the growing town. “I’m guessing that Mr. McLaughlin didn’t think his sister had enough money in the bank, then?”

Chris was dumbfounded by how right West had been about people making up their own story to fit whatever facts they were given; Mary’s driving curiosity had visibly abated as she convinced herself that she had everything all figured out. “Yeah, that’s about the size of it,” he replied slowly, holding back a smile. “Ez said Mr. Willis recognized the McLaughlin family name right off and just couldn’t lick Jesse’s boots clean enough - and he’s been goin’ over to the hotel twice a day to eat ever since.”

Gloria and Mary shared a look of deep amusement; Mr. Willis’ wife was not the most pleasant of women, and they had no doubt the bank manager had jumped at the opportunity to get out of going home for lunch every day. Not that Mrs. Willis was much of a cook, either, believing that particular chore to be ‘beneath’ her; the woman openly and deeply resented the fact that circumstances didn’t allow her to have servants such as she’d had back East. “Well, he’ll be outgrowing those fancy clothes of his soon enough then, I’ll wager,” Gloria clucked, shaking her head. “More work for Meg, I suppose – I just hope he doesn’t need new pants before the wedding because I doubt he’ll get them. You said you wanted gun oil, Mr. Larabee?”

“Yes ma’am.” Chris stepped up to the counter and watched her wrap up the little bottle for him, then tucked it into the pocket of his duster and paid her the usual ten cents. He’d been inclined to linger and talk to Mary some more, but now all he wanted to do was get back to the jail and tell Ezra they had one less thing to worry about; the newspaperwoman wouldn’t be a threat to Juliet on their three day trip to Eagle Bend now that her curiosity had been satisfied – self-satisfied, but satisfied all the same. “Well, I’d best get back to work,” he said. “Ladies.”

“Mr. Larabee,” both women replied. If Chris’ polite nod and smile to Mary was just a trifle warmer than courtesy demanded, Gloria pretended not to notice. “Well Mary, let’s go over that list…”

 

The next morning dawned clear and not quite so hot as it could have been, a sure sign that the long, hot summer was finally beginning to shade down into autumn. Ezra and Josiah had both come out to see the two women off and had fussed over the wagon and horses until Mary made them stop. “Gentlemen, this is certainly not the first time I’ve gone to Eagle Bend and to date I have always returned the same way I left,” she scolded.

“We’re big girls, we can take care of ourselves,” Juliet agreed with some amusement. She was wearing her blue gingham work dress sans its ever-present apron and had a wide-brimmed straw hat borrowed from Mrs. Potter tied on with a blue scarf; Ezra was certain the storekeeper was the one who had tied the hat on, because Juliet would never have placed the bow at such a coquettish angle on her own. She impulsively caught up his hands in hers, the soft fabric of her gloves feeling cool in his fingers. “We’ll be just fine, ma cher, you needn’t worry about us. I don’t _want_ you to worry about us.”

“Ah shall endeavor to comply with your wishes, cherie,” he returned softly, lifting one small hand to his lips and kissing the back of it while his eyes remained locked with hers. “But ah’ll have you know ah believe it to be impossible. Ah shan’t be completely content until you are once again safely returned to me.”

His answer was a sweet, quick kiss, and then Josiah was helping Juliet up onto the wagon seat and receiving a hug of his own. “You two be careful,” the big preacher cautioned. “And have fun with your shopping.” Juliet made a face and he laughed at her. “Maybe you’ll learn to like it, Little Sister.”

“We’ll never know if we don’t get on our way,” Mary observed, but she smiled at the two men. “See you Saturday, gentlemen.”

She was about to start the horses moving when a voice called out to her to stop. “Wait! Oh, wait!” Meg came rushing up, out of breath, with something clutched in her hand. “Julie, you can’t go without this, you might need it up there.”

Juliet took the long, flat object and delighted comprehension flooded her features. “I didn’t even think…oh, Meg, thank you for remembering for me!” She leaned over and shared a hug with her friend. “Hopefully it won’t be necessary, but thank you just the same.”

“You just remember what I told you,” Meg prompted seriously.

“If a man can’t touch, he shouldn’t look either,” Juliet answered. “And if he looks he’s not fit for me to speak to so I do this.” She adopted an adorably affronted expression, flicked open the delicate carved-ivory fan and fluttered it quickly a few times, then snapped it shut into her palm. When Meg smiled and nodded Juliet dimpled and tucked the fan safely into her pocketbook. “I won’t forget - and I won’t forget to bring back your ribbon, either, I’ve got the sample with me so I can match it.” Mary started off the horses at that point, and Juliet blew her fiancé one last kiss and waved to everyone else as they headed out of town.

Ezra watched until the wagon rounded the bend in the road, then he took Meg’s hand and bowed over it. “Miss Meg, you have done me quite a service by teachin’ Juliet the fine art of feminine self-defense. You have mah thanks.”

Meg giggled at the formal gesture. “I thought it might be a good idea. Where she’s from they just expect men to be forward and disrespectful and stare at ‘em so they don’t do nothin’ but ignore it; that could be just plain dangerous around these parts for someone that looks like Julie. Just took me a bit to round up a fan fit for her to use.”

“That was a fine one,” Josiah observed. “I’m amazed you could find a thing like that in Four Corners at all, Sister.”

“Oh, that one was mine – I just couldn’t remember where I’d hid it,” Meg told him. “It was a present one of my aunts gave me before I left Chicago, she bought it from a real fancy shop. Said she wanted me to have somethin’ fine to carry at my weddin’ so folks would know I was from a fine place and a fine family.” The working girl shrugged. “She’s also the one that told me things don’t always turn out like you plan, I sure found that out. Well, gotta get back to work, I’ll see you all around.” She hesitated a minute, then reached out and gave the startled gambler’s arm a brief, reassuring squeeze. “She’ll be fine, you know she will, Mr. Standish. Julie’s a lot smarter and tougher than she looks.”

Meg hurried off, and the two men exchanged a troubled look. “Apparently she’s not the only one,” Josiah observed, troubled. “Did that sound to you like what it sounded like to me, son?”

“Yes, it did,” Ezra replied with a sigh. “I’d hate to think we freed all those women before only to keep one, possibly more, right here under our noses in the same situation. Pity Mr. Lincoln didn’t bother to emancipate everyone, isn’t it?”

Josiah ignored the touch of bitter sarcasm in the comment and just nodded, knowing what Ezra meant; women were still considered property in the eyes of the law, owned by their husbands, fathers and other male family members. Even in the West, where outspoken, independent women were more the rule than the exception, those women were still legally at the mercy of their menfolk. “Do you think Brother Buck…”

“Ah think this is a conversation we shouldn’t have,” the gambler interrupted sharply, startling him. “Whether he does or not is between he and Miss Meg, and what he does about it is between himself and his conscience. Nowhere in that equation are either of us included.” He softened a little. “Not that I mean to try to dictate to you, Mr. Sanchez; but havin’ someone meddlin’ in another’s private affairs when they don’t know exactly what is goin’ on has already caused our little group _enough_ trouble, don’t you think?”

The point went home. “You’re right, of course,” Josiah sighed. “And you’re just reminding me, not dictating – and I appreciate it, I tend to be a mite forgetful.”

Ezra’s smile came back. “Happy to be of service, then. And I suppose that now I should…”

There was a brief flash in the green eyes that Josiah almost would have characterized as lost as Ezra glanced toward the now-empty road. _Oh Lord, she hasn’t even been gone five minutes_ , the preacher groaned mentally. _I don’t get his mind on somethin’ else right quick, he’ll be saddling up Orpheus and riding after that wagon_. “Ezra, would you be able to give me a hand over at the church before you get on with the rest of your day?” Josiah quickly ran through his list of repairs to find one he could legitimately ask for Ezra’s help with. One project immediately sprang to mind. “I’ve been thinking to try to make a rose window, been collecting glass for months, but now that I have enough I need to sort the colors and try to figure out a pattern. You have a good eye for color, be a lot less of a chore if you’d give me a hand.” He saw indecision on the handsome face, and the beginnings of a frown as Ezra tried to determine if this was just a transparent attempt to keep him from being alone. It was, but before the gambler could push the attempt away Josiah played his hole card. “I was kind of hopin’ to get the window done in time for the wedding…”

‘Wedding’ was the magic word; indecision fled. “I believe I have some time to spare this mornin’,” Ezra agreed, with one last look down the road. “I will do my best to assist you. Now what medium were you plannin’ to use to set the glass? I know the usual material is lead…”

Josiah resisted the impulse to put his arm around the younger man’s shoulders as they began to walk toward the church. “I thought of trying to use lead, but then Grey Owl mentioned that baked clay would do just as well and be easier to work with – faster and cheaper, too. Now I know you’ve seen the kind of window I’m talking about, what sort of pattern do you think we should try for…”

 

Down the road, conversation between the two women in the wagon had gone not quite so smoothly. Mary had decided it was her duty to explain to Juliet why it wasn’t proper for her to be so familiar with Meg in public and had started on her topic as soon as they were well out of town. Ezra or Gloria or even Josiah would have immediately understood the expression that flickered across the younger woman’s face when the subject was broached, but Mary did not know her as well and so missed the warning signs. Juliet took a deep breath and said, rather too sweetly, “Mrs. Travis, how much do you know about the girls?”

“I don’t need to know about them,” was the firm answer. “They’re prostitutes.”

“Yes, they are.” Juliet’s voice reflected calm acceptance, but there was also a slight edge of anger there that startled Mary. “And do you know _why_ they’re prostitutes?” The newspaperwoman wanted to answer but found that she couldn’t; she’d honestly never given it much thought and said so. “This is in confidence, of course, completely off the record just so we’re clear. Meg and Becky both came West as mail-order brides, were supposedly married right after getting off the train and were then informed that their new ‘husband’ had plans for them to support him instead of the other way around. And poor little Molly has never known any other life but the one she’s in, her father sold her and her three older sisters off just as soon as each of them came of age.”

_That_ shocked Mary back into speech. “ _Sold_? But that’s not legal…”

“Well of course it isn’t,” was the surprisingly sharp reply. “What that awful man did to Meg and Becky wasn’t either, but they’ve tried to escape him several times only to find that the law is on his side and not theirs. He justifies legal claim to both of them by claiming to be Mormon, which is the silliest thing I’ve ever heard of, and he has so-called ‘adoption’ papers for Molly. The three of them have to send him an obscene amount of money each month, but they’ve assured me that it’s worth it to be free of his presence.”

Mary again couldn’t find a proper response. She wanted to say that of course they could appeal to the law, could find other work …but it wouldn’t have been true. The law said a man’s wife was his property, and no one in town would be willing to hire one of the girls to do an ‘honest’ job because of their current profession. It had simply never occurred to her that Meg, Becky and Molly might have been doves that hadn’t wanted to be soiled; she’d been far more worried that the dirt on their feathers would taint the growing town. Just like she’d been worried about Juliet’s carefully guarded secrets – just like she’d dishonestly used Chris Larabee’s reputation as a gunslinger three years ago. A faint flush of guilt stained her cheeks at the memory. “I…I don’t know what to say.”

Juliet sighed and shook her head. “There isn’t much to be said, I’m afraid. Most likely it would take a lawyer to straighten out the mess as it stands right now and the girls simply can’t afford one – and Ezra will probably have to go take his exams again before he can practice law out here.” Then she brightened. “But the sewing work Mrs. Potter has been able to send Meg’s way is helping them…um, cut back on their hours, so to speak.”

“That’s a good thing then. Meg is talented with her needle.” Mary decided to change the subject, wanting some time to come to terms with what she’d just learned – and not just about Meg, Molly and Becky. “If I might ask, why is it you don’t like shopping?”

The younger woman just shrugged. “It always seemed a colossal waste of my time. I mean, if you need something you go to the store and get it, you don’t wander around aimlessly for hours…” A small, embarrassed smile suddenly appeared. “Unless it’s a bookstore, of course.”

That made Mary laugh. “I’d have to agree with you there. Don’t worry, though, we won’t be wasting any time tomorrow, not with all the things we need to get.” She cast a quick glance at Juliet. “Did you make a list of things you wanted to look for while we’re in town?”

Juliet sighed again. “I’ve been working on it for days. I just hope they’ll have all the things I’ll need for the kitchen, and I’d really like to buy a rocking chair if we can find one.” She arched one delicate eyebrow in Mary’s direction. “I’m sure that Mrs. Potter already gave you the list she and Meg made, and I still say half the things on it aren’t necessary.”

Mary smiled knowingly and shook her head. “They may not be necessary for _you_ , but Mrs. Ezra Standish will probably find a use for every one of them.”

“Mrs. Ezra Standish.” Just saying it made Juliet light up. “You’re most likely right, but I suppose I won’t really be able to see it until it happens.” A troubled look crossed her face and she bit her lip. “I just hope Ezra will be all right until I get back.”

“He has Chris and the others looking out for him,” the newspaperwoman reassured her. To be truthful she herself was worried about Chris, but as there wasn’t any kind of formal arrangement between them it wouldn’t have been proper to say so. “They’ll all be fine.”

“I’m sure they will.” Juliet sounded like she was trying to convince herself. “I just hope nothing happens while we’re gone.”

 

Ezra left the church before noon on the excuse that he had things to take care of. It wasn’t exactly a lie, he was sure there were things he needed to be doing…he just couldn’t think what any of them were at the moment. But he was having no trouble picturing every rut and rock along the long road to Eagle Bend. _She’s fine_ , he admonished himself. _Good lord, the woman journeyed all the way from_ _Louisiana_ _to_ _Denver_ _by herself in a world much more violent than this one, and Mary Travis is in no way helpless either. There are no outlaws in the area, we’ve had no trouble in town for weeks_ … Catie Baxter popped into his head and it was all Ezra could do not to make a beeline for the livery stable. JD had made up a wanted poster and put it into circulation just in case the escaped Baxter sister was stupid enough to come back into the territory, but like Jesse’s well-implemented ‘grass fire’ plan such a strategy was at best an early warning system.

He passed up the livery and then the hotel, happy that it was still a little early for lunch so no one was there to waylay him; Ezra intended to avoid the hotel as much as possible for the next few days. His patrol wasn’t until late afternoon and he didn’t really want to talk to anyone which meant the jail and the saloon were both out…so that left the house. Granted there was plenty he could be doing in the house, but once he’d gone inside he found himself wandering through the rooms with growing melancholy, feeling everywhere the faint ghost of a woman still living but nonetheless troublingly absent. No rugs or matting covered the wooden floors yet, and the echo of his boots on the polished surface followed him with a hollow, lonely sound. The harsh lines of the plain window shades were as yet unsoftened by curtains, what furniture they had unadorned with comforting cushions or quilts, and the small tables beside the few chairs bare of ornaments. He didn’t dare go upstairs to the bedroom; Juliet had painted that room herself while he had been busy on the roof. The kitchen alone felt welcoming, the scent of the potpourri from two weeks ago still lingering like a promise of things to come. Ezra sat down at the sturdy round table that dominated the center of the kitchen and breathed in that promise with a faint expression of relief on his face that slowly relaxed into a smile. Home. He was home…and soon she would be too. He could wait three days.

His smile slipped a little as he realized that today was only the first of the three.

 

Chris came around to the church a few hours after lunch and with the ease of long practice neatly circumvented Josiah’s automatic attempt to put him to work. “I only stopped in for a minute,” he excused himself. “I just got done talkin’ to Vin, and what I wanted to know is if Ez ate over here with you today.”

The big preacher froze. “He didn’t go over to the hotel for lunch?” As soon as the words left his mouth he was kicking himself; of course Ezra hadn’t gone to the hotel, it was the one place in town he’d be actively avoiding right now. “Doesn’t he have patrol this afternoon?”

“Rode out half and hour ago.” Chris stopped himself from swearing, mindful of where he was. “All right, we all need to keep an eye out for when he gets back, make sure he comes to dinner.”

“Will do, Brother.” Josiah continued what he was doing for a while longer, and then when he thought it was about time for the afternoon patrol to be over he transferred his activities outside to the garden and did what he could – which wasn’t much, but he did manage to pull a few things he was certain were weeds and added some milk to the ‘feeder’ Juliet had attached to the special pumpkin she was cultivating for Cedric and Cecily. The preacher had never seen anyone feed a pumpkin before, but then he’d never seen anyone do a lot of the gardening tricks Juliet used and so far everything had worked exactly as she’d said it would. Still, a pumpkin as large as a child? He was going to have to see that one to believe it.

He saw Orpheus and his rider before they saw him and hastily put up his hoe, washing his hands and face in the bucket of water he’d drawn up earlier before wandering over to the livery to intercept the gambler; he saw Vin and Chris heading in from the opposite direction and couldn’t hold back a grin. “Everything quiet?” he called out as soon as he was in range.

Ezra swung down out of the saddle tiredly and patted Orpheus’ neck. “Quiet and hot,” he replied. “Nothing stirrin’ as far as the eye could see, not even a jackrabbit.”

“Think we deserve some peace and quiet,” was Josiah’s response. “Sometimes boring is good.”

“Ah yes, ennui does have its merits on occasion.” Ezra led the horse into the stable and put him in his stall, taking the bucket of water the stable boy held and going to work on the chestnut’s sweaty coat. Josiah leaned on the gate and watched him, making desultory conversation until the gambler was finished. Ezra shrugged back into his jacket with a suspicious eye fixed on the preacher. “Somethin’ you want, Mr. Sanchez?”

“Just company,” the older man answered pleasantly. “Was about to go have an early supper, thought you might want to join me.”

Ezra sighed but smiled in spite of himself. “I take it my absence at lunchtime was noted?”

Josiah laughed and patted his shoulder. “We know you don’t want to go over to the hotel, Ezra, but you can’t not eat until she gets back. Come on now, I’ll walk with you over to the saloon so you can clean up and then we’ll go see what Mrs. Abbott has for us – and you know she’ll have something to say about you not being in there yet today, don’t you?”

Ezra sighed again but gave in gracefully. “I suppose you’re right. Let’s go get it over with, then.”

 

Chris and Vin were loitering outside of the saloon when Ezra and Josiah arrived there, and the older man stayed outside with them while Ezra went up to his room to wash away some of the ever-present trail dust. They were all still there when he came back down, and the gambler rolled his eyes at the three grinning men. “Gentlemen, your concern is appreciated but unnecessary; ah am a grown man and perfectly capable of walkin’ myself over to the hotel without an escort.”

Vin snorted. “We wouldn’t be here if we thought you’d actually do that, Ez – ya didn’t make it for lunch, after all.”

“I was otherwise occupied…”

“You were sittin’ over there in the house wonderin’ how long three days was going to be,” Chris corrected him, smiling a little when Ezra blushed slightly. “Now come on, we won’t let her hurt you too bad.”

It was Ezra’s turn to snort, but he dutifully allowed the three men to herd him into the hotel’s dining room. Mrs. Abbott met them coming in with a disapproving frown on her face, but all she did was take the gambler’s arm and lead him to a chair – a chair he wouldn’t easily be able to escape from unless he wanted to climb over his companions. “Two peas in a pod,” was all she said to him, though. “No wonder you’re both so small; every time something upsets you the both of you stop eating.” She shook a scolding finger at him. “Well not tonight or tomorrow, my boy, or even the day after that. You’re eating whether you ‘feel like it’ or not, understand?”

Ezra swallowed and nodded meekly. “Yes ma’am.”

 

It was late afternoon when Mary and Juliet reached Eagle Bend and checked into the more respectable of the town’s three hotels. They were both tired from the long drive and had already decided that the most they were going to do with the remaining daylight hours was to unpack and then possibly venture downstairs to eat supper. And when Juliet pointed out that they still had some of the food they’d brought with them for the trip, the idea of staying in the room and eating it and then going to bed sounded even better, so Mary locked the door and lit the lamps while Juliet pulled the shades and drapes.

“What on earth is this?” Mary looked up from her own unpacking and saw Juliet holding a neatly wrapped brown paper parcel with a mystified expression on her face. “It was right in the middle of everything I’d packed last night, however did he get it in there?”

“Are you certain it was…” Juliet turned the package around so that Mary could see the pretty little arrangement of leaves and dried flowers that had been artfully worked into the knotted string. The newspaperwoman laughed. “No, I don’t suppose Gloria or the children did that – although one of them may have snuck it into your bag for him. Are you going to open it?”

“I’m almost afraid to.” The younger woman carefully extricated the flowers before going to work on the knots. “He’s been spoiling me dreadfully ever since we got engaged, even though I keep telling him it isn’t necessary.”

“Well of course it’s necessary!” Mary once again successfully fought down the urge to ask if Juliet had come from a foreign country or maybe from the moon; she reminded herself again that the younger woman had grown up amid the depredations wrought by the War and the more extravagant social niceties must appear completely alien to her. “It wouldn’t have been proper for him to give you more than the smallest token of his affections before, but now that you’re engaged it’s expected of him. And doesn’t he seem to be enjoying it?”

Juliet made a face that still had a smile in it. “He enjoys it all too much.” She finally worried out the last of the knots and carefully unwrapped the crisp paper; a flat blue bottle gleamed in the room’s dim light, the glass cushioned by a small brownish sponge. Juliet squealed with delight, startling Mary. “He remembered!”

Mary leaned closer to look at the corked bottle. “Bath salts?”

“He asked me once what I missed most about home; I told him it was my grandmother’s bathtub. I would fill it up with hot water and bubble bath and just soak until it got cold. Grandmere said a hot bath and a hot meal could cure almost anything that ailed you.” She pulled the cork on the little bottle and sniffed, then hugged it happily. “Now I understand why he insisted we stay in this hotel, it was the bathtub! I’m going to go take a bath and wash my hair, all right?”

Mary had no objections – she only wanted a sponge bath herself tonight, having planned to enjoy the hotel’s luxurious bathtub after they were done with tomorrow’s shopping. “I’ll just clean up a little and then I think I’ll go on to bed. Don’t spend too long in there,” she cautioned. “We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“All the more reason to take my bath now,” Juliet called back lightly, already halfway into the next room. “Better to start off a bad day with a good night.” Mary smiled and shook her head; the next day would certainly be interesting.

 

Ezra came up to his room and locked the door securely behind him at a much earlier hour than usual for him. The other men had insisted he sit downstairs with them for a while and had even played a few hands of poker, but his heart wasn’t in it and they’d eventually given him leave to retire to the solitude of his room. Coincidentally, they had let him go just about the time that Nathan would have made his nightly appearance and Ezra was grateful for their thoughtfulness; he just couldn’t have taken the healer’s sidelong looks and bitten-off comments with his usual equanimity tonight. _You’re actin’ like an idiot_ , he cursed himself silently, lighting the lamp and turning it down to a barely adequate glow. _They’re probably all down there right now laughin’ at you for moonin’ around like some young fool when we all know you’re neither_.

But even as he thought it, he knew that it wasn’t true. He knew that his friends understood, even though he wasn’t sure he did himself, and Ezra was again grateful for the odd twist of fate that had landed him in this dusty little town and seen fit to keep him here. At the moment, however, even his partnership with the other six men wasn’t enough to ease the lonely ache inside of him. Two days more, only two days…

With a sigh Ezra began emptying his pockets onto the dresser like he did every night, his thoughts far away in Eagle Bend…and stopped when he encountered something unfamiliar. Pulling it out, he found a bit of paper rolled up and tied with a small piece of ribbon. His fingers trembled as he untied it. Inside was a dried flower and a message in a flowing feminine hand. _Ezra_ , it said. _Please don’t worry; I will be careful, and I will come back to you. I love you. Yours, Juliet._

For a moment Ezra just stood and stared at the small reassurance, his chest tight with emotion and his green eyes glistening with tears. Then he quickly finished undressing and hung everything up before climbing into the big feather bed that had once been a comfort to him but lately had just seemed lonely and empty and cold. He put the flower on the table beside the bed next to his gun, tucked his derringer under his pillow in its usual place and then read the note again, and then again, hearing Juliet’s sweet voice, catching the faintest whiff of her scent from the paper. He finally rolled it back up and retied the ribbon…but when he started to put it beside the flower he stopped. Then he reached a little further and turned out the lamp before snuggling down into the bedclothes with the hand wrapped around the note tucked next to his heart. The big bed didn’t seem quite so cold now...and not half as lonely.

 


	4. Chapter 4

“All right, we’ve got the gloves, the stockings, two dozen handkerchiefs…” Mary was ticking off the items on the list as she went, and counting herself lucky that although Juliet wasn’t enthusiastic about shopping she did happen to be quite efficient when it came to actually doing it. They’d gotten an early start that morning – Juliet had been up before Mary, as a matter of fact, and had already been out to run an errand before the older woman was even dressed. Gloria’s list had already been cleared, Meg’s had taken a bit longer but they’d managed to find everything…and now they were trying to finish the remaining two. The newspaperwoman had insisted they start with the one Gloria and Meg had made up first, and it looked like they’d be done with it just in time for lunch. “Half a dozen each of all the underthings, three more corsets, another pair of boots and a pair of slippers for the wedding.” She tapped the list with her pencil. “You need an umbrella. And a new hat.”

“The umbrella yes, but I never wear a hat at home and if I needed to there is nothing wrong with the hat I’ve got on now,” Juliet maintained.

“It’s out of fashion,” Mary countered. “And even if it wasn’t, you’ll need a winter hat soon enough anyway so it’s best we get it while we’re here. And speaking of winter, now would be a good time to get a warm wrap of some kind as well.”

“I saw just the thing.” The younger woman went to the pile of shawls folded on a nearby counter and pulled out one in heavy black wool. “Look at this, it will last forever!”

Mary had to agree. “That one’s a double, though, you don’t need one that big…”

“Not as of yet I don’t,” Juliet said, getting a faraway look in her eyes. “But eventually it won’t be just myself wrapping up in it; with one corner of it tucked up, it would make an ideal sling to carry a baby in.”

The newspaperwoman was more than a little surprised that Juliet had thought that far ahead. But then, Juliet had been surprising her a lot this trip. “You’re right, that is a good idea. Now what about the umbrella?”

There was no contention over the umbrella, although Mary noticed Juliet looking longingly at a pretty painted parasol before selecting a more utilitarian black umbrella with a sturdy wooden handle. The newspaperwoman hid a smile; for all her practicality Juliet was still a young woman with a young woman’s love of pretty, frivolous things, even though she did a good job pretending it didn’t matter. “You could use a sunshade too, you know, to protect your complexion.”

“Sunshade?” Juliet looked dubious, but she still picked up the delicate object and appraised it again. “That’s what this is for? I thought it was just an accessory.”

The storekeeper chimed in at that point; he’d been listening to the two women with carefully concealed amusement for some time now. “She’s right, young woman, the sun can do a lot of damage to that pretty skin if you don’t take proper precautions.   And don’t you go putting down _accessories_ , either; just because some less sensible than you apply them as personal decorations doesn’t mean such things don’t have a real use.”

Juliet blushed. “It was so pretty I didn’t think it could possibly be useful; but you’re right, the sun can to quite a bit of damage to a person’s skin if they don’t take proper precautions. I simply hadn’t thought about it until you mentioned it.” She put the parasol on the counter with everything else and turned back to Mary with a sigh. “I think that’s everything then, isn’t it? I don’t even want to _start_ on my list until after lunch.”

“Another list?” The storekeeper held out his hand. “May I?” Juliet pulled out her list and handed it to him, and he looked it over thoughtfully. “Hmm, you’re in luck, I just got a shipment in a few days ago and I should have most of this. Tell you what, while you ladies are over to the restaurant I’ll bundle up everything else for you and then I’ll have a go at the crates I still have in the back to see how much of this other stuff I can turn up.”

“That would be very kind of you,” Juliet agreed. “But what about your own lunch? I wouldn’t want you to go without eating on our account.”

He beamed at her. “I appreciate your thinking of that, young woman, but the missus will make sure I get my noon mean, never fear.” He patted his protruding stomach with a wink. “As you can see, she’s never missed one yet.”

The two women laughingly thanked him and then took their leave, walking out onto the boardwalk and blinking to readjust their eyes to the sunlight. The streets of Eagle Bend were not so busy now as they had been that morning, most of the residents and visitors alike having sought refuge from the hot noonday sun indoors. Wagons and carts clattered by, and a few men on horseback rode up the street bound for parts unknown. What little traffic still strolled along the boardwalk was mostly headed into the saloon or the restaurant across the street or were just vacating one of the two and returning to the business of the day.

Three dusty ranch hands crossed the street from the blacksmith’s and noisily strode up onto the boardwalk just as a little girl exited the confectioner’s with a bright stick of candy clutched in one small hand; she couldn’t have been more than five or six, a dark-skinned and dark-eyed little thing wearing a neat blue gingham dress and with a white pinafore. The men doubtless had seen the child but gave her no notice, bumping into her and in doing so pushing her off her feet. The candy landed in the dust, and seemingly as an afterthought the largest cowboy turned his head and spit a mouthful of brown liquid in the same direction. His companions laughed and complimented his aim, and the three of them continued on their way. The child pushed her small self up and went after her lost treasure; finding it, she stood looking down at the fouled treat with tearful indecision before stretching out her hand to retrieve it.

Juliet moved quickly and stopped the little hand before it reached the fallen candy. “Oh no, sweetheart, don’t touch that! Who knows what kind of diseases that awful man might have.” The ‘awful man’ in question stopped dead in his tracks when he heard that, as did his two companions. Juliet ignored them and held out her hand to the wide-eyed child. “Let’s go get you another piece of candy, all right?”

The little girl shook her head, golden-brown eyes shiny with tears. “Don’ ha’ no mo’ penny.”

Juliet’s smile widened reassuringly. “I have a spare penny we can use – I keep it for just such an emergency. Come along now.”

The little girl bit her lip, but the young woman’s smile won her over and her small brown hand slipped trustingly into the dainty white-gloved one that had been extended in her direction. She did not see the withering glare of contempt that her defender shot at the man who had pushed her before they re-entered the candy shop, nor did either of them see the man’s face redden with anger as he spat onto the weathered boards. “Why that little…”

“I wouldn’t finish that sentiment if I were you, Dawson.”

A tall, thin man wearing a dark green jacket had appeared behind the ranch hands on the boardwalk. He looked amused and not at all intimidated by the glares the three rough men were shooting at him. “Why not, Sullivan? She somebody special to ya?”

Sullivan leaned against one of the supports and grinned lazily. “You could say that.”

Dawson growled. “Don’t yank my chain, gambler.”

“That’s attorney-at-law to you,” the man replied, unruffled. “I’ll have you know my services were retained this morning by a very worthy client. Now that particular lady’s name is Miss Juliet Moore, but I believe you boys might be more familiar with the name she’ll acquire next month: Mrs. Ezra Standish.”

The two hands with Dawson immediately backed down, looking worried. “Heard tell about that,” one of them said. “He ain’t here with her?”

“He ain’t in town,” Dawson snorted. “Be over at the saloon if’n he was, ain’t like we could’ve missed him.” He rubbed his stubbled chin thoughtfully, an unpleasant leer crossing his face. “Little bastard took a whole lot of my money last time he was here playin’ poker, maybe I should get some of it back in trade since he ain’t around …”

“He may not be here but _I_ am.” Sullivan didn’t so much as shift his weight, but the indolent drawl had left his smooth tenor and his black eyes had hardened. “You’d best keep your cretinous impulses to yourself.”

The younger of Dawson’s two companions nodded slowly. “Heard that darkie healer they got down there in Four Corners shot off his mouth to her and Standish damn near kilt him – and that Jackson fella’s as big as you, Daws.”

Dawson spat in the dust. He’d heard that story too, but it was saloon talk and everyone knew that once a story passed those swinging doors it tended to get bigger in the telling. He was wary of Dan Sullivan, though; their own gambling lawyer was a friend to Four Corners’ gambling lawman and both men were equally dangerous with a gun. “I’m just jawin’, Sully, I ain’t gonna hurt no woman – and we’re ridin’ back out anyways, boss wanted us back ‘fore dark. Come on, boys, let’s get goin’.”

The gambler watched them walk back to their horses with a slight, satisfied smile on his face. He didn’t move when he heard heavy boots come up behind him on the boardwalk. “Sheriff.”

“I’d deputize you if you weren’t so much trouble,” the older man said, watching the departing trail hands as well. He’d been in the barber shop and had overheard most of the conversation. “But since I’m not a glutton for punishment I guess I’ll just thank you for handlin’ those boys for me.”

“I couldn’t be your deputy anyway, you can’t afford me,” the gambler chuckled. “And no thanks are necessary, I didn’t do it for you. As of this morning the woman in question is not only my friend’s fiancée but also a client of my law practice, it would be bad business to let anything happen to her.”

That made Sheriff James frown. “Somethin’ goin’ on, Sullivan?”

“Not with her.” Sullivan knew from experience that his client’s privacy would be better protected if he gave out enough information to keep wild rumors from starting. “She was retaining my services on behalf of some friends who apparently did not possess the funds to hire a lawyer on their own,” he answered. “It’s rather a tragic case, actually, and I’ve already sent off some telegrams to obtain more information.”

“Guess I don’t have to warn you to play it straight, do I?”

“Even if Ezra weren’t my friend, I would hardly defraud an honest client,” the gambler replied, unoffended; if James had really had concerns about the situation he knew the cautious sheriff would be taking them to his new client instead of standing here talking to him. “And as my friend plans on returning to the practice of law himself after his wedding, I must take extra care to retain my reputation as an honest lawyer if I don’t want to lose business to him – Four Corners is not so far away as to discourage people from seeking him out if they think I’m untrustworthy.”

Juliet and Mary reappeared before the sheriff could comment with the little girl still in tow and now clutching an identical stick of candy to the one that was lying in the street. James sighed when he saw the child. “So that’s what it was all about. Damn those boys anyway, as if we don’t get enough of that fool-headedness from the Murphys.” He tipped his hat when the women looked in his direction and received two nods in return before they crossed the street. “Think I’ll go make sure that Dawson really does leave for the day – last thing I need is him to get some stupid idea in his thick head, we’d have the whole pack from Four Corners riding out here with drawn guns. You gonna be around?”

Sullivan smiled. “I believe I shall go have my lunch right now, and then I’ll be over at the telegraph office for a time before returning to my own abode. I will most likely see you in passing somewhere between the two.” James accepted that with a nod and headed back to the jail – which just happened to be across the street from the livery – and Sullivan straightened his hat and walked across the street toward the restaurant. He saw his new client taking leave of the little girl at the entrance to the alley while the older woman looked on and briefly considered waiting for them, then decided against it and went on in himself, finding a seat that would afford him a good view of both the door and the other tables.

The restaurant was busy, but by the time he’d finished eating most of the crowd had cleared out and only a handful of patrons remained lingering over their meals. Dan was finishing the last of his coffee when a woman’s raised voice from the kitchen made him pause mid-sip. He sighed silently and shook his head. _Wonderful, more ‘fool-headedness’ – as though we haven’t had enough today._ _Wonder what it was this time_ …

The angry tirade was loud enough to be heard but not so much so that actual words could be discerned, and for those sitting near the back a fainter voice could be discerned trying to reply but being continuously cut off. Juliet stiffened when she heard that soft, apologetically pleading voice say something that sounded like _Emmeline_ ; the little girl had told them that her mother was the cook at the restaurant. She took a look around the busy restaurant at the other patrons, none of whom seemed to be paying any attention at all to the verbal altercation going on in the kitchen and her lips pressed together in a thin line. “It looks like this is a normal occurrence here,” she said in a low voice that only Mary could hear and then she went back to eating, the only difference now being that she seemed to be paying unusual attention to every bite she took and the look on her face was very thoughtful.

Across the room, Dan Sullivan hid a smile. He found it ironic, in a way, that his small and very Southern client was so obviously affronted by a Northerner’s treatment of a Negro – the Murphys, who owned the restaurant, were from Pennsylvania. Miss Moore was very like her fiancé, at that.

 

Gloria was tidying up the store that afternoon, the oppressive heat having slowed business down to a trickle, when Ezra came in with a hesitant, half-worried expression that she well remembered from the evening he’d brought Juliet flowers. She hid a smile. “Mr. Standish, is there something I can help you with?”

“Actually…” He came over to the lace counter and looked around again as though verifying that the store was empty except for the two of them. “While Juliet is gone ah felt ah needed to take this opportunity to, well…” He fumbled in his coat pocket and fished out a small velvet bag, handing it to Gloria. “Ah had a small contribution to make to her weddin’ dress—if you think they’ll suit, of course.”

Mystified, Gloria took the bag and began working open the drawstring. “And you couldn’t make this contribution with Julie here because…” The bag opened and she gasped.   “Oh my goodness.” She looked up at the gambler with eyes full of wonder and disbelief. “Mr. Standish, are these…”

“They’re sapphires and yes, they’re real,” he said quietly, seeming almost embarrassed. “Ah kept back the ones that were of a quality fit to be made into jewelry and ah thought the rest might be a fittin’ addition to her dress—and ah knew she would never accept them from me due to their apparent value. But ah have been savin’ them for several years for just such an occasion.”

Gloria poked one finger into the bag, moving the stones around. “This is a king’s ransom in jewels…where did you _get_ these?”

The gambler shrugged and relaxed a little; the question had been curious, not accusing. “The bag was offered up in a poker game I was involved in and I had no choice but to accept it as the stakes had gotten rather high and the gentleman I was engaged with had been foolish enough to overbet himself. He was the owner of a mine, I believe, recently returned from checkin’ his holdin’s somewhere overseas.”

“I should certainly hope so,” Gloria replied faintly. “It was either that or he was some sort of pirate.” She gingerly picked out one of the stones, holding it up to the light and examining it with awe. “This is beautiful.”

“So is Juliet,” Ezra said with a smile. “Will they do? Ah wasn’t certain if they would lend themselves ornamentally to her dress…”

“We’ll make certain they do,” she assured him, dropping the stone back into the bag and carefully closing it back up. “If nothing else, we can put them in her hair; she’ll look like a princess! Oh, she’s going to be beautiful!”

“She would have been beautiful anyway,” Ezra replied quietly. “I am glad you can use them, though. You do understand why I couldn’t offer them to Juliet herself?”

“She would never have accepted them,” the storekeeper said. “To be honest, Mr. Standish, I’m not sure _I_ should even accept them; you’re trusting me with a fortune.”

“I wouldn’t hesitate to,” he said gravely. “But those are not so valuable as you might think. Mr. Corielle did me the favor of lookin’ them over while he and Mr. McLaughlin were here last week and, being somewhat more skilled at appraising gems than I, he helped me to sort out the good from the not so good. As lovely as these particular stones appear, he assured me that they are virtually worthless as sapphires go and would best be utilized as spangles – he said that Mr. McLaughlin’s wife embeds such as these in the paving tiles around her garden to catch the light.”

Gloria’s mouth dropped open. “My goodness, they must be wealthy beyond belief to do such a thing!”

Ezra chuckled. “Apparently – and yet Juliet’s brother is one of the least ostentatious men I have ever been privileged to make the acquaintance of.”

“He seemed a very nice man,” Gloria agreed. Then she frowned. “Mr. Standish, I think there is something else you and I should discuss while Julie is away. I’ve…heard the rumors going around town about your mother, and I feel like I should ask you how much of it is true.”

The younger man seemed to age ten years right before her eyes. “All of it, most likely,” he said heavily. “Ah fear that even the most imaginative tale-spinner in Four Corners would fall short of what Mother is actually capable of when she feels her interests are bein’ thwarted.” He gave her an apologetic, slightly wary look. “Ah’m sorry, Mrs. Potter, ah know ah should have informed you of this…situation when ah requested your blessin’ to ask for Juliet’s hand…”

“My answer wouldn’t have been any different,” she replied, impulsively reaching out to cover the hand resting on the counter with her own. “Mr… _Ezra_ , that wasn’t why I brought it up. I just wanted to know your side of the story, not all the wild rumor that’s been flying around this past week. Did your mother really try to kill you to keep you from marrying your first wife?”

Ezra flinched; apparently he’d underestimated the town’s tale-spinners, at that. “Yes,” he answered. “Although ah’ve told no one that detail. An…associate of hers was the one who actually carried out the plot, ah was simply lucky that ah recognized the acrid tang of bitter almonds before ah’d ingested enough to be fatal.” He managed a small smile. “Unfortunately the only available cure for what ah did take in left me with an aversion to milk and cream which borders on hatred; it is all ah can do not to cringe when ah see our young sheriff down his daily mug of the horrid stuff.”

“I can just imagine,” was Gloria’s sympathetic reply; she was well aware of the course of treatment for cyanide poisoning, having informed many purchasers of the powerful rat poison of what to do if a child accidentally ate some of it. She tightened her hand on his. “Oh Ezra, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how a mother could do such a thing to her own child.”

The gambler started to say something…and then stopped. A barrier fell behind the green eyes. “Nor can I,” he agreed slowly, meeting her gaze. “Ah…ah would have cut off one of mah own limbs rather than see harm come to mah daughter, much less inflict that harm myself..”

“Any parent would – any normal parent,” she qualified when he raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure you were a wonderful father.”

Ezra smiled with an effort. “Ah did mah best.” He carefully extracted his hand from hers and she saw the barrier come back up. “Ah have probably taken up enough of your time today, and ah should be gettin’ on to the jail to take over from Mr. Wilmington for the afternoon. Good day to you, Mrs. Potter.”

“Good day to you, Mr. Standish.” He tipped his hat to her at the door before heading out onto the boardwalk, and Gloria shook her head and blinked hard before pulling out a handkerchief to dab at her eyes. “I’m sure you were a wonderful husband, too,” she murmured, and then went back to straightening the lace counter. “Much like mine, I’m sure.”

 

If Juliet seemed a little preoccupied after lunch, Mary attributed it to a long morning and didn’t put much further thought into it. The younger woman plunged into getting all the things she wanted for the house with an enthusiasm that showed very clearly how little she’d actually enjoyed the shopping that morning, and the rather spirited discussion she’d gotten into with Mr. Wilson the storekeeper over the merits of various types of cookware had drawn out his wife and resulted in the two of them being invited to have dinner with the couple that evening – an invitation they’d gladly accepted after the unpleasantness at the restaurant earlier.

It never occurred to Mary that it was that unpleasantness which was still weighing on Juliet’s mind.

The rest of the afternoon passed swiftly, and by the time all the shopping was finished they were both tired and Mrs. Potter’s wagon was full. Their last acquisition, a rocking chair, was tied on top of everything else, and Juliet ran her hands along the smooth-worn wood one last time before leaving the livery. “I am so glad we were able to find that,” she told Mary.

“You were determined to find one,” the newspaperwoman countered with curious amusement.

Juliet didn’t miss the unasked question. “My grandmother had one, and I had one back…in Denver.”

Mary frowned. “Wasn’t your uncle able to get any of your things back from there? Not anything at all?”

“No, nothing.” The younger woman shivered. “It was all…long gone.”

She had actually paled a little, and Mary flinched inwardly when she remembered Gloria’s warning. “I’m sorry, Juliet,” she apologized. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

“They weren’t all bad,” Juliet corrected quickly, but the indigo eyes momentarily held a look of loss so deep it was heartbreaking. “But memories is all they are, now.” Mary had the disquieting feeling that there was a hidden meaning behind those words, but before she could say anything else the younger woman had pulled herself back to the present with a little shake. “I’m afraid I have one last errand to run, did you want me to meet you back at the hotel?”

“No, I’ll go with you.” There was no way on earth Mary was going to let Juliet run off by herself in Eagle Bend – it was bad enough that she’d taken off early that morning unescorted. She fell into step beside the younger woman and cocked an eyebrow at her. “I thought we’d gotten everything?”

“We did.” Juliet’s expression hardened and a slight frown drew a line between her eyebrows. “I need to stop at the restaurant and have a word with the cook.”

That took Mary by surprise. “But Mr. Wilson and his wife asked us to dinner…”

“We aren’t going _into_ the restaurant,” Juliet corrected. “We’re going behind it, to the kitchen entrance. There’s someone I want to talk to.” She gave the older woman a not-unsympathetic look. “You don’t have to go with me if you don’t want to. If _that woman_ from earlier happens along while I’m trying to steal her cook things might become unpleasant.”

Mary’s mouth dropped open. “You want that little girl’s mother to come to Four Corners, to replace you at the hotel?” When Juliet nodded, just a little defiantly, Mary laughed and nodded herself. “In that case it would probably be better if both of us went – and I think it’s a wonderful idea, her cooking was almost as good as yours.”

Juliet beamed up at her and, taking her hand, pulled her into the alley beside the restaurant and around the back of the building to a screened door much like the kitchen door of the hotel at Four Corners. But instead of the bent figure of old Bert Day the worn stoop here was occupied by little Emmeline. The child looked up when they appeared and the two women could tell that she’d been crying. Juliet immediately went down to her level and cupped the small, smudged face in her hand. “Are you all right, sweetheart?” A small wide-eyed nod. Juliet smiled at her. “Is your mama in the kitchen working right now?” Another nod. “Could you get her for me?”

This time the child shook her head and sniffed. “I ain’t ‘lowed in no mo’.”

“I see. All right, then, we’ll do this a different way.” Juliet patted the little girl’s head reassuringly, then stood up and straightened her skirt before stepping up on the stoop and knocking on the door’s wooden frame.  

After a moment the door swung open. “Emmy, I told you honey…” The young black woman stopped mid-sentence when she saw the two women standing outside. She recognized the shorter, dark-haired one at once from her daughter’s story about her stick candy earlier that day; there was certainly no one living in town that looked like her. “You’re the one that helped my Emmy at lunchtime, aren’t you? Ah’m much obliged to you for that, miss.”

“I’m just glad I was there.” Juliet smiled and held out her hand. “Juliet Moore, Miss…?”

The young black woman took the offered hand, looking somewhat surprised. “It’s just Janey, Miz Moore.”

“Then it’s just Juliet,” was the firm but friendly reply. “And I don’t want to get you into trouble, so I’ll make this quick.” Juliet took a deep breath. “I wanted to ask you if you’d like a job, Janey.” She held up her hand when the other woman started to say something. “No, just listen first. I’m the cook at the hotel in Four Corners, but I’m gettin’ married next month and I told Mrs. Abbott that I’d find someone to take my place before then. I’m not sure what they’re payin’ you here, but one thing I can guarantee is that you won’t have to put up with,” a look of mingled disgust and anger flickered across her face and darkened her indigo eyes, “with what ah heard at lunchtime. Would you be interested?”

Janey’s mouth formed an astonished round ‘o’. “M…Juliet, ah…ah don’t know what to say. You don’t even know us from Adam. Are you certain…”

“Very – and you don’t know me either, so we’re even on that. Mrs. Abbott said whomever I picked was fine with her, and I’ve picked you - you’re at least as good a cook as I am, perhaps even a better one.” She read tentative acceptance in the other woman’s face and smiled. “Is there anyone here who would bring you and Emmeline to Four Corners next week? I hate to rush you, but…”

“No, no no, that’s fine,” Janey interrupted, still looking a little dazed. “Ain’t no rush a’tall, me an’ Emmy’d be more than glad to leave this place. And ol’ Moses Able has a wagon, he’d bring us if ah ask him to, if you’re sure…”

“I’m sure.” Juliet held out her hand, and after a moment’s hesitation Janey took it. “I’ll make arrangements when I get back, you just get yourselves there. I’d best let you get back to work now before that woman returns. Wire me if there’s going to be any problem, all right?”

Janey nodded. “Ah will – send a telegram before we leave, too.” She hesitated again. “Are there…ah mean, it don’t really matter none, but are there…”

“There’s Mr. Jackson,” Juliet answered at once. “He’s the town’s healer as well as one of its lawmen, he seems quite well accepted from what I’ve seen.” She smiled brightly. “I’ll be seein’ the two of you next week, then?”

The other woman nodded and finally smiled herself. “You’ll be seein’ us. And Juliet…thank you.”

Juliet beamed at her. “No, thank _you_ , Janey. You won’t regret trustin’ me, ah promise.”

Janey picked up Emmeline and hugged her as the two women left the alley. “Ah already trusted you once today without even knowin’ you at all, reckon ah can do it again now we’ve been introduced,” she murmured. “An’ Four Corners can’t be no worse than here, ah’m certain of that. Ain’t no Miz Murphy in Four Corners.” She set Emmeline back down on the stoop, dropping a kiss on the top of her head as she did so. “Now Emmy, you stay right here until I’m done in the kitchen, all right? An’ you don’t say nothin’ to anyone ‘bout this, it’ll be our secret ‘til next week.”

The little girl nodded her head and made her small self comfortable on the stoop again when her mother went back into the kitchen. Then she smiled to herself and giggled quietly. “No mo’ Miz Murphy,” she sang softly to herself, picking up a stick and drawing with it in the dirt. “No mo’ mean Miz Murphy.”

 

Nathan was just heading back to his clinic when he noticed the figure in the blue jacket sitting alone on the front steps of his house, just staring out over the town. The way the man was slouched against the porch support screamed loneliness, and the healer froze just shy of the boardwalk in response to that silent cry. He’d known that Juliet had gone to Eagle Bend with Mary Travis for three days, but he hadn’t realized the effect the little woman’s absence would have on the gambler. _My God in heaven, he really is in love with her_ , Nathan realized. Not that he hadn’t know that before, but until this moment he hadn’t…fully taken in the reality of it. A small part of him tried, reflexively, to attribute Ezra’s desolate mien to some overblown ploy; but that bitter little inner voice that was so prone to judge and accuse was sounding rather flat these days. He considered going over and saying hello to the gambler…but then he saw Vin come around the side of the house and step up onto the porch. The tracker took up position leaning against the support opposite Ezra’s and also looked out over the town, and Nathan saw Ezra respond to something Vin had said with laughter.

With a sigh, the healer mounted the stairs up to his clinic but didn’t go inside; instead he dropped down on the bench that sat beside his door and looked out over the dusty street himself. He was surprised, to say the least, when JD came up the stairs a few moments later and plopped down beside him. “You need somethin’?”

“Nope. Looked like you did, though.” When Nathan raised an eyebrow at him, JD grinned. “Looked like you needed company, Nate, seemed like you had something on your mind.”

“Bet I know what it is, too.” Buck had come up right after JD and leaned against the doorframe on the other side of the bench. “She been pushin’ you again?”

“Yep.” Nathan should have known the ladies’ man would notice. “She wants to get married right now, don’t want to wait. I keep tellin’ her I can’t support a family…but she just don’t understand.”

“Couldn’t she find some work to do?” JD wanted to know. “I mean, Miss Julie is gonna keep on doing the baking for the hotel even though she ain’t gonna be their cook any more, couldn’t Rain do something like that to help you out?”

“Wouldn’t be nothin’ she could do ‘round here,” Nathan replied glumly. “She’s lived up at the village her whole life, pretty much, and she just don’t understand how to live in a town.”

“And she don’t want to try?” Leave it to Buck to hit the nail on the head when it came to the female of the species. “And you don’t want to go live up in the village ‘cause you like it here.” He sighed and patted the healer on the shoulder. “Was kind of afraid of this when you got serious with her, but I was hopin’ she’d come around and shift herself down here, maybe start helpin’ you in the clinic or something.”

Nathan snorted, remembering Rain’s response to that very suggestion. “That ain’t gonna happen.” He glanced back down the street again with a puzzled expression. “Why’s Miss Julie gonna keep workin’? I know gamblin’ ain’t exactly a regular income, but I still can’t picture Ezra lettin’ his wife help out that way.”

Unseen by the healer, Buck smiled; even as little as a month or two ago, he was sure that Nathan would have railed against the gambler and accused him of being lazy and letting his wife support him. “The way I hear it they worked it out this way ‘cause Miss Julie can’t imagine not helpin’ out and ol’ Ez would do a hell of a lot more than go along with her doing Miz Abbott’s baking if it means makin’ her happy.

“And he ain’t gonna stay a professional gambler,” JD put in. “Ez says he’s got to have a more ‘respectable profession’ now that he has a family to think about again.”

Buck nodded. “He’ll probably go back to bein’ a lawyer, then. Town could use one.”

Nathan’s eyes widened and he sat up a little straighter. “What do you mean, go _back_ to bein’ a lawyer? When was he a lawyer?”

“Back in Virginia, Rosa May told us about it.” When he saw a flicker of suspicious disbelief cross the healer’s face JD quickly added, “And Judge Travis knew about it too.”

“Parently Ez don’t like crooked lawyers much,” Buck chuckled. “’Specially not if they’re workin’ for Miss Maude. The judge didn’t care much for his way of dealin’ with the problem so he held him in contempt of court.”

“What did he do, shoot the other lawyer?” Nathan wanted to know.

“Yeah, Nathan, that was it,” JD answered sarcastically. “He killed the guy right there in the courtroom but the judge only gave him thirty days for it because he’d already won the case.”

“Back down, kid, he didn’t mean nothin’ by it,” Buck reprimanded, grimacing slightly and rolling his eyes. “He just opened his mouth without knowin’ what was in it again. Dammit Nathan, that shit’s gonna get you killed one day.”

The healer made a face. “So I been told.”

“Well, maybe you oughta start listening,” JD informed him, standing up. “I’ve gotta get back down to the jail, I’ll see you guys at supper.”

Buck just nodded, and then winced when the sheriff clattered down the stairs at full speed. “Damned kid’s gonna break his neck doin’ that one of these days – know I’d break mine if I tried it.”

Nathan snorted. “Kinda like Ezra and Vin gettin’ up on the roof, scramblin’ around like they do. But they’re all a lot smaller than we are, Buck, an’ not as heavy.” He glanced down the street again and saw Ezra lean over to swat at Vin with his hat, and he smiled a little ruefully. “Saw him sittin’ over there alone before I came up here, almost went over to talk to him and then I saw Vin.”

“Yeah, might not be a good idea to get around Vin,” Buck agreed, rubbing his chin. “Ez most likely would have appreciated the company, though.”

“You sure about that?” The healer cocked a disbelieving eyebrow at him. “Seem to remember him bein’ of a mind to kill me rather than talk to me.”

“Brought that on yourself,” Buck countered easily. “But Ezra’s a gentleman, he won’t be rude ‘less you give him cause.” He gave Nathan a look that was half amused, half serious. “Think you can talk to the man without givin’ him cause?”

Brown eyes met blue, and then Nathan looked away, out over the town. “Guess I’m gonna have to try, sooner or later.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

Ezra leaned back in the chair he was occupying and sighed, watching quiet dawn ease into busy morning from his seat in front of the saloon. He’d told himself he was going to sleep in, wasn’t going to get up until at least ten and maybe not even until noon; the day would have been half over that way, he would have had less time to wait. But in spite of that intention he’d been up with the sun and was now looking forward to a long day with too much on his mind. He’d tried to order his thoughts and that had only made it worse.

First off was Juliet’s absence from town, of course. She and Mary would most likely be starting out from Eagle Bend soon with an eye to arriving back home early that same evening. If Ezra had been unhappy about the two of them alone on the trail before, he’d discovered he was even more worried by the idea that they now had a wagonload of supplies that would make them a very attractive target for any outlaws that happened by. Not that there had been any outlaws around lately, but just because no one had seen them didn’t mean they weren’t there. And he was trying very hard _not_ to think about Catie Baxter – he’d been trying for the past two days but it wasn’t doing much good.

Thinking of the missing Baxter sister led him directly to thoughts of his even more dangerous mother. The entire town was buzzing with talk of the wedding, and it was a given that word of Ezra getting married had already spread much farther than that – hell, he himself had sent off a stack of letters telling people about it! But what was Maude going to do when she found out? Would she concentrate her efforts on destroying her son or would she try to hurt his friends as she had the last time? He shuddered internally at the memory of how close things had come to complete disaster during that incident, especially for Vin. Or this time would she simply try to kill Juliet? Another shudder, this one visible. Ezra was afraid of his mother and she knew it; she was unpredictable and could be ruthless when it came to getting her own way…and she knew all his weaknesses, every last one. The only thing that was even remotely making Ezra feel better about this part of the situation was the thought of what Juliet’s brother and uncle would do to Maude if she tried anything – whether she was successful or not. Ezra smiled slightly; it was so easy to forget that the two men weren’t actually related to his fiancée. But he was thankful that they felt the way they did about her, that they were willing to be a new family to Juliet in lieu of the one she had been so violently torn away from. Now if only he could be certain that Maude wouldn’t make her a widow out of spite…

The third and final problem weighing on his mind was Nathan. He’d been avoiding the healer for a variety of reasons, the temptation to call him out and shoot him down like a dog in the street being chief among them. Four Corners was a small town, people talked; people had talked about several comments Nathan had made after the ‘incident’ of two months ago and Ezra still wasn’t quite sure he could trust himself around the man if they were alone and anything else was said. He didn’t want to kill a man for having his foot in his mouth – or his head up his ass, as the case may be – nor did he want to lose control of his own temper and say something it was possible he might regret later. Ezra took a sip of his cooling coffee, grimaced in distaste and then tossed the remainder out into the dusty street and watched the dry ground swallow it up. He knew that Nathan had been asking questions about him lately, trying to find things out, and he wished he knew the reason behind the sudden interest in his person. Was the healer investigating him with an eye toward gathering some sort of evidence to put himself in the right, or was he feeling guilty and trying to atone somehow? Ezra couldn’t be sure, but he knew he didn’t trust Nathan, had never really trusted him, and had so far managed to avoid any situation where he would be helpless in the healer’s power. And he had even more reason to be careful now that he was fairly certain Nathan knew he’d fought in the War; the desire for revenge could overwhelm even the most sensible of men, and lately Nathan Jackson had proven himself to be positioned quite a ways distant from that particular mark.

The clunk of heavy boots alerted Ezra that he wasn’t alone with his thoughts anymore, and he wasn’t actually too surprised to realize that he’d just been joined by the man he’d been thinking so diffidently about. “Mr. Jackson,” he drawled, his inflection marking the greeting as a polite nothing and not an invitation to remain.

“Ezra.” The healer sounded slightly wary. “You’re up awful early this mornin’.”

Ezra started to take another sip of coffee and belatedly remembered the cup was empty. He favored the speckled tinware with an irritated frown and returned his attention to the horizon.

Nathan tried again. “You havin’ trouble sleepin’?” He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but the little bit he’d gleaned from Vin about the gambler’s past medical history and the uncharacteristic melancholy he’d seen Ezra displaying the previous afternoon had shaped part of his guilt in the direction of professional concern. “You feelin’ okay?”

Ezra sighed and turned partially around to look up at him. “Mr. Jackson, pardon my bluntness…but is there something I can do for you?”

Brown eyes narrowed, but Nathan just managed to hold back the retort that he normally would have delivered; he might still be having trouble remembering to censor himself around the others, but Ezra was the one who’d been ready to draw down on him the last time he’d shot off his mouth and that had made a definite impression on the healer’s memory. He picked his words carefully. “You just ain’t been actin’ quite yourself lately. Saw you out here and thought I’d ask you about it, that’s all.”

“Indeed.” Ezra still wasn’t quite to the point of being really rude, but he knew he was getting close. “So this is a professional inquiry? In that case you may be rest assured that I am in excellent health and have no need of your services, thank you.”

If he’d hoped that would make the healer leave, he was disappointed. Nathan shuffled his feet a little on the boardwalk. “You’d tell me if you did?”

“That would greatly depend on the circumstances, Mr. Jackson,” Ezra answered evenly, surprising the other man. He stood up. “Now if you will excuse me, I am in need of a fresh cup of coffee.”

Nathan frowned, not stepping aside when Ezra attempted to go past him. “You know no matter what differences we might have I wouldn’t do you no harm, you _know_ that.”

Ezra stiffened, his thoughts of a moment before coming back to him, then firmly but not violently pushed the healer out of his way and continued on into the saloon without looking back. “Ah wish ah could say that ah did, Mr. Jackson.”

_Well, guess it ain’t time for me to apologize yet_ , Nathan thought, torn between sadness and irritation. He didn’t really like being at odds with anyone for any length of time, at least not when he wasn’t in the right and certainly not like this. Knowing that Ezra most likely wouldn’t come back out until he was gone, the healer continued on his way over to the church, which was where he’d been headed when he’d spotted the gambler on the boardwalk.

The old adobe church was cool and quiet, and when he slipped in through the door Nathan could hear the faint sounds of Josiah pottering around in the back. He was careful not to let the door slam behind him, but knew that even the slight creak of the hinges was enough to alert his friend that someone had entered; Nathan liked to call it Josiah’s ‘preacher instinct’. Sure enough, the big man almost immediately appeared in the main room, wiping his hands on a rag. “Good morning, Brother.” Then he frowned and cocked his head, looking critically at his friend. “Isn’t it a bit early in the morning for something to be bothering you?”

Nathan shook his head. “I just stopped off in front of the saloon to talk to Ezra, that’s all. Saw him sittin’ out there on the boardwalk just starin’ off into space, thought he might be feelin’ a little poorly.”

Josiah chuckled and shook his head. “Only thing that ails that boy right now is the distance between here and Eagle Bend – he wasn’t staring into space, brother, he was looking down the road. Bet he was facin’ west, wasn’t he?”

Nathan was surprised by that, and then it registered. “Lookin’ off in the direction of Eagle Bend, yeah.” Then he scowled. “You’d think the man didn’t trust her or somethin’.”

“I think it’s the rest of the world he doesn’t trust.” Josiah’s amusement dropped away abruptly. “You can’t say it hasn’t given him good reason, especially where our little sister is concerned. I expect he won’t be quite himself until she’s safe and sound at home tonight – and I know for a fact he’s taking this night’s patrol at his own request, if so much as a mouse gets close to the dry goods store he’ll probably shoot it. You want some tea?”

“Thanks.” Nathan followed him into the back and gratefully accepted the mug of steaming liquid, sipping appreciatively. “Feel like I should keep an eye on him though, ‘case that swamp fever comes back…”

“He won’t let it come back,” the preacher rumbled at once. At Nathan’s skeptical look he let out an exasperated sigh. “Nate, he hasn’t had a relapse in six years and he told me he doesn’t plan on having another one ever again if he can help it.” Then he chuckled again. “Said the experience of bein’ an invalid for weeks on end was ‘highly overrated’.”

It was the healer’s turn to shake his head. “Knowin’ that stubborn Southern fool he probably just tried to ride it out, didn’t take no medicine or nothin’ and made himself a burden on someone for no good reason.” He almost dropped his tea when Josiah reached out and smacked him on the head much like Buck usually did to JD. “Hey, what was that?!”

“Exactly what you think it was,” Josiah reprimanded. “A timely reminder not to talk before you think; worked wonders on young brother Dunne, maybe it’ll do the same for you. Now try that again. Do you even know what the remedy for swamp fever is?”

Nathan took a deep breath, ignoring his friend’s grin when he sidled back a little to be out of arm’s reach. “I looked it up after I had that talk with Vin, it’s some kind of bark. Never heard of it before, but I figured probably some willow bark…”

“No.” The healer’s eyebrows went up and Josiah made a face at him. “You might be able to ease the symptoms a little – and I do mean _might_ – with willow bark or with that fever tea of yours, but cinchona bark is the only stuff that will kick swamp fever and it’s mighty hard to get; it comes from South America. Brother Ezra says it’s easier just to avoid gettin’ sick in the first place than it is to get hold of the cure, so that’s what he does.” This time he laughed outright at the look on Nathan’s face, but not entirely pleasantly. “Brother, all of us were taking care of ourselves long before we met you, you shouldn’t be so surprised.”

“Guess not,” Nathan admitted slowly. “I asked Buck once if he’d ever got…well, one of those sicknesses a man with his habits would be likely to get, could have knocked me over with a feather when he told me he’d had it more than a few times but this old sailor man he’d met taught him how to take care of it. And Vin carts around herbs of his own in his saddlebags, says he learned how to use ‘em from the Indians.” He didn’t add that the tracker had been rather adamant about his own remedies being better than Nathan’s, or that Buck had offered to teach him the trick for dealing with the recurrent affliction of the promiscuous and Nathan had told him no. He didn’t think he wanted to hear Josiah’s opinion of either of those incidents.

“There you go.” Josiah took a long drink of tea. “Now what else was it on your mind?”

Nathan gave him a dirty look over the rim of his mug. “You’re in full preacher mode this mornin’, ain’t you?” He shrugged when the big man nodded solemnly. “Oh all right, know you won’t be leavin’ me alone about it until I tell you. Just startin’ to make me kind of mad that Ezra won’t let it go, let all of us get back to the way things were before little Miss Julie showed up an’ brought all that trouble along with her. He claims to be a gentleman…”

“And he’s acting like one – you’re still alive.” Josiah refilled his own mug from the kettle. “Nathan, how many times do we have to go over this? What you did…any other man would have called you out right then and there and then spit on your corpse when it was over. But Ezra ain’t gonna do that because this town needs seven men and one of those is a healer, the only one for miles; the boy is not gonna put a point of honor over the well-being of everyone livin’ in this town. So instead he warned you off publicly and made sure it was clear that you should keep your distance from him _and_ Miss Julie.” He hid a smile in his tea. “Of course, I’d imagine he’s also keepin’ you at arms length until he’s sure he won’t kill you with his bare hands for makin’ some stupid remark, kind of like the one you just made.” The startled healer choked a bit on the tea he’d just swallowed and glared at him. “No, don’t look at me like that,” Josiah continued implacably. “Miss Julie didn’t bring trouble with her and she’s certainly caused none herself – just the opposite, I’d have to say. And as for trouble coming after her here, well I’d have to say that only he who’s without that particular following can rightly cast the first stone; ain’t a one of us hasn’t had some kind of trouble catch up to us because we settled in this town, at least our little sister came by hers innocently and not because of her own actions. And whether you like her or not, she’s a good, decent woman and she’s more than earned her place in this town.”

“I don’t dislike her,” Nathan felt he had to point out. “I ain’t denyin’ that she’s done some good things since she got here, but I don’t know what made her want to do them so I ain’t inclined to trust her too much.”

Josiah nodded thoughtfully; the healer had often made a similar comment about Ezra, refusing to give the gambler credit for the good that he did because the man wouldn’t explain his motives for doing it. “So you’ve asked her about it, then? And she wouldn’t give you an answer?”

Nathan blinked at him. “Well, no, not real recent like,” he admitted. “Tried to that one time here in the church, though, and she backed off from me and wouldn’t say a word and then took off like she thought I was gonna be chasin’ her or somethin’.”

“Because you came stomping in while she was alone and scared the daylights out of her,” the preacher informed him, holding up a hand to silence the healer’s immediate objection. “You were all worked up from Mrs. Travis telling you our little sister was wanting to go teach the children up at the village and I know you, Nathan; I might not have been in here to see it but I have no doubt you didn’t so much as introduce yourself, just started demanding to know what she was up to. Try to imagine how that must have looked from Miss Julie’s viewpoint; little bit of a thing like her sitting flat on the floor thinking about something else when this huge black man appears out of nowhere and looms over her snarling out questions?” He snorted as he saw his friend’s eyes widen. “Nathan, you’re lucky she didn’t faint dead away – most women would have. Have you ever tried to talk to her since?”

“No. Well…no, no I haven’t.” The healer looked slightly ashamed of himself. “Didn’t figure she wanted nothin’ to do with no Negro, after that.”

The preacher sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you that where Miss Julie’s from it’s considered a sort of character flaw to harbor any sort of bigotry toward your fellow man?” He dropped a large hand on Nathan’s shoulder and shook him lightly. “It’s your size and your attitude that make her nervous, brother, not the color of your skin.”

Nathan nodded, thinking that over; Josiah had mention it before, and it could be true that he’d read into the little woman’s behavior more of what he expected than what was actually there. They didn’t know much about where she was from, things could be like she’d said they were. “That’s not Ezra’s problem, though.”

Josiah fought the urge to smack him again. “And you accuse him of not being willing to let things go. He made one comment one time and never explained it – nor did any one of us to my knowledge ever ask him to – and yet you’re still holding it up as proof positive that he has the same problem you do.” He ignored the scowl that accusation produced. “Well we all know what it was about now, brother, it was about the soldiers who killed his family coupled with your unfortunate tendency to boast about how you fought for the Union when most men want to forget they were ever in the War to begin with. Rosa May was amazed the boy could bring himself to ride with you at all.” The healer’s scowl deepened and Josiah sighed again, suddenly tired. “Oh not that again, I though we’d at least settled that one to rest. The Good Book warns us against sitting in judgment, Nathan,” he said, dropping a heavy hand on the healer’s shoulder and squeezing. “To do so is not only a sin against our fellow man, it’s a sin against God – it’s you telling the Lord that you’re on equal footing with him.”

Nathan pulled away from him. “I ain’t one to do that and you know it, Josiah; I don’t want to set myself up better than anyone, ain’t never tried to say I was! I just think that folks should try to do what’s right by everyone, ought to speak up plain about themselves and what they’re doin’…”

Josiah cocked an eyebrow at him. “You mean, you think they should be more like you?”

“Well yeah, if they’d just…” The healer suddenly realized what he was saying and grimaced, his dark skin concealing his embarrassment. “You know I didn’t mean no such thing.”

“Kind of sounded like it there for a minute, though; maybe I just wanted you to hear it too.” The preacher set his empty mug aside and took the kettle off the stove. “You know, if you’re going to come to me to complain, brother, you’ve got to expect me to answer you back.”

“Just wish I could expect you take my side once in a while, been a while since you done that,” Nathan grumbled, finishing off his tea.

Much to his irritation, Josiah winked at him. “You can and I will and I have…when you’re right. But I have to say you ain’t been in that position too often lately and it’s getting a mite tiresome.”

The healer froze. “I don’t have to come talk to you.”

“I want you to come talk to me, Nathan,” Josiah told him firmly, taking the empty mug from his hand. “But I’d like it if you’d accept the truth and start learnin’ from your mistakes so maybe we could talk about other things once in a while; I keep leadin’ that horse of yours to water and he keeps spittin’ it out and grazin’ on loco weed instead.”

Nathan knew he sounded sulky, but he couldn’t help it. “You jus’ tell me what you believe about things, _your_ truth. I ain’t sure what’s the truth, I’m just tryin’ to figure it out.” He made a face, feeling both embarrassed and angry; he was glad now he hadn’t told Josiah what Ezra had said about not trusting him, he didn’t want to hear the ‘truth’ that went along with that. “I gotta get back to the clinic, got work to do.”

“I’ll most likely see you at lunchtime, then.” Josiah followed the healer to the door, patting his shoulder as he left but not saying anything else. Once the door had closed he began to count, a soft chant under his breath until he reached fifty and he was sure Nathan was well away from the church, and then he swung his fist and impacted the wall hard enough to shatter the plaster. “I’m sorry, Lord,” he murmured, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes. “It was either your wall or him.”

 

Juliet and Mary had gotten an early start, but they had barely been on the road an hour when they saw a rider coming up on them from the direction of Eagle Bend. At first both women were worried, but when the mounted man drew close enough to be more than a vague silhouette Juliet relaxed and shoved the rifle that sat between them back under the wagon seat. “It’s just Mr. Sullivan, I wonder what brings him out of town at this hour? Maybe we should stop…”

Mary’s eyebrows went up. “Mr. Sullivan the gambler?”

“Lawyer,” Juliet corrected. “He’s a friend of Ezra’s, Mary. Do you think we should stop? If he is coming after us it would be rude not to.”

“I suppose so.” Mary reined in the horses and looked back over her shoulder again at the approaching rider. “We barely spoke to the man in town, though; friend of Mr. Standish or not, I can’t think why he’d be riding after us...” The younger woman bit her lip, and Mary filled in the blank in a flash. “Is _that_ where you were yesterday morning so early? What business could you have possibly had with a lawyer and whatever possessed you go alone?”

Juliet’s chin lifted and a flush of color stained her cheeks. “I realize they all told you to look after me, Mary, but I am _not_ a child,” she insisted. “I was curious about something and I remembered Ezra mentioning Mr. Sullivan, so I went to see him. He was very helpful and every inch a gentleman.”

The newspaperwoman made the connection with their conversation two days before almost immediately. “You _didn’t_ …”

“No woman deserves to be forced into prostitution,” the younger woman shot back. “It’s all well and good to say how horrible the situation is, but as my grandmother used to say, if you don’t back talk up with action then all it amounts to is idle complaining. I asked Mr. Sullivan if it was a case he could resolve and he said he thought it was. He was to have sent some telegrams off yesterday to begin gathering the information he’ll need to take it before a judge.”

“I’d say he may have found some,” Mary said with a frown, looking back at the approaching rider again before returning her attention to her companion. “But you still should have told me. It wasn’t proper for you to go see him alone like that.”

Juliet frowned back, not giving in. “Of course it was, he’s a _lawyer_ – I don’t need a chaperone to visit a lawyer.”

“He’s a _gambler_ , though…” Mary realized what she was saying at the same time Juliet arched one eyebrow at her – in amusement, not offense – and then they both laughed. “Oh all right, I see your point,” the newspaperwoman relented, shaking her head. “But you still took an awful chance, going out alone like that – because you’re a young woman and Eagle Bend is a much larger town than Four Corners, _not_ because I think you’re a child who needs to be chaperoned. So what did Mr. Sullivan think he could do for the girls?”

“One divorce and one annulment,” was the pleased answer. “And he thinks he can get Molly transferred over to someone else’s custody until she’s of age.”

“ _Custody_?” Mary’s smile dropped away abruptly, replaced by a look of absolute horror. She remembered Juliet saying that the man who had ‘married’ both Meg and Becky had adopted Molly, but she’d thought that was… “But isn’t she…I mean, she’s been…”

“Molly is just fifteen.” Juliet looked every bit as disgusted by that as the older woman felt. “That horrid beast of a man ‘adopted’ her at twelve, I think even hanging is too good for him.”

The older woman was still dumbfounded. “But she looks so much older…”

Juliet snorted. “Wouldn’t you? Meg and Becky have tried to spare her all they could, but there isn’t much else she can do. She can barely read and write, and Meg has been trying to teach her sewing but Molly doesn’t have any more talent with a needle than I do so that isn’t working at all.”

Mary could see why it wouldn’t be; for someone who was so adept at all the other housewifely arts, Juliet’s complete ineptitude with a needle and thread was almost laughable. She made a face. “There has to be _something_ for her other than…what she’s doing now, even if it’s just sweeping up a shop or washing dishes in a kitchen.”

“True, but opportunities are limited in Four Corners so it’s going to be a difficult task to figure out what that something is,” was Juliet’s reply. The approaching rider was almost upon them by that time, and she raised her voice. “Hello, Mr. Sullivan!”

“Miss Moore, Mrs. Travis,” the gambler replied, pulling his horse up alongside the wagon and tipping his hat. “I apologize for riding out after you in this unseemly manner, but I had some news I thought Miss Moore might want to carry home with her.”

Juliet beamed. “You heard something back already?”

“From Salt Lake City, no less,” was the pleased answer. “The Mormons aren’t happy that their name is being used to perpetrate something like this, apparently they have enough problems with their reputation already without this sort of thing added to the mix. They’re not only giving us their full cooperation, they’ve insisted on paying my fee as well. So I’ll be refunding the retainer you gave me, Miss Moore.”

He held out a small pouch, which Juliet took wonderingly. “They got back to you this quickly about it?”

“Apparently the message I sent yesterday made it all the way to Brigham Young himself,” Sullivan told her. He saw the look that crossed Mary’s face and laughed. “I know, Mrs. Travis. But I’m sure those girls in Four Corners don’t care how many wives the man has if he gets them out of their situation.”

“I suppose not,” Mary replied dryly. “I suppose they also offered to have the girls come to Utah?”

“They’ll suggest it later on, I’m sure,” he told her. “For right now, though, the one they want in Utah is the girls’ ‘husband’ Mr. Jenkins and heaven help the man if they get him there – from what I’ve heard, he’d be better off being captured by Apaches than being hauled in by Young’s men.”

“What will happen if we catch him first?” Juliet wanted to know.

Sullivan cleared his throat. “He’ll either get sent to prison down here or shipped back East to one of theirs, I’d guess a sentence of about three or four years. I have to say, though, that after the story you told me I’d prefer for the Mormons to have him, make an example out of him that might stop the next fellow who tries to pull a trick like this. A woman’s lot in life is hard enough in this part of the country without a fellow like Jenkins making it harder.”

Juliet smiled up at him. “I appreciate your riding out this early to tell me what was going on, Mr. Sullivan. I’m sure the girls will be ecstatic when they hear the news.”

“Just so long as they aren’t ecstatic in public,” he warned. “Remember to tell them what I told you, not a word of this can get out until everything is in place or we might end up giving the snake a way to slither out of our trap. If they want him gone for good they’re going to have to be patient and stay quiet.”

“I’ll make sure they understand that,” Juliet assured him. She held out her hand, which he took and, to her surprise, kissed. “I know you probably want to be getting back to town, Mr. Sullivan, so we won’t keep you. Will you be coming to the wedding Wednesday after next?”

“I will most certainly try,” he assured her, starting to turn his horse back toward Eagle Bend. He tipped his hat again. “You ladies be careful today, have a safe trip back…” Both women nodded, but neither of them looked overly concerned and the gambler hesitated; then his jaw set and he nudged his horse’s head around so that he was facing them again. “Miss Moore, some might say this is none of my business and they’d most likely be right, but,” he took a deep breath, “how much has your husband-to-be told you about Maude Standish?”

Juliet looked surprised by the question. “He told me…what she does, and that she tried to stop him gettin’ married before. And I know she went to a lot of trouble to steal his saloon.”

“Well, that’s something anyway,” Sullivan said with a sigh. “I don’t know anything about a first marriage, but as far as the other goes ‘a lot of trouble’ isn’t even the half of it. I can understand why they’ve kept quiet about it, but the plan Ezra’s mother set into motion to get that saloon away from him hinged on getting the other lawmen too distracted to interfere…and to accomplish that Miss Maude tracked down the man who’d framed Mr. Tanner for murder and pointed him in the direction of Four Corners. Make no mistake, ladies, she knew she was engineering an innocent man’s death when she did it.”

“Oh my Lord,” Mary whispered. Juliet had turned pale, and the newspaperwoman put a comforting hand on her arm. “Mr. Sullivan, why are you telling us this?”

“Because Miss Moore needs to know,” the gambler said flatly. “You’ll pardon me saying it, but your men are fools for letting the two of you come out here alone like this and you can tell them I said so – and Sheriff James agrees with me. Word is getting around about the wedding and just because Four Corners is so well-protected doesn’t mean you’re safe just because you’re from there. Maude Standish is one of the smartest con artists this side of the Mississippi and she’s not going to give you any warning before she strikes, if you get my meaning. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble today, but you keep that gun handy just the same. It doesn’t pay to take chances if you don’t have to.”

Juliet nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving his. “Thank you for the warning, Mr. Sullivan, I much appreciate it.”

One corner of his mouth quirked up in a roguish smile. “You’re most welcome, but it is in my best interest to look out for a paying client.” He tipped his hat politely. “You ladies have a safe trip home.”

He rode away at a leisurely pace until the wagon was well out of sight, then kicked his horse into a gallop and was back in town in well less than an hour. Once his horse was put up he went straight to the jail instead of to his office or the saloon. Sheriff James was waiting for him. “Well?” the older man asked.

“Road is clear,” the gambler told him, dropping into the visitors’ chair and accepting the cup of coffee James offered him. “And they’re being careful, they spotted me coming from quite a ways off and got that rifle out – Miss Moore might not be able to fire it, but I know for a fact Mrs. Travis can.”

“Good.” The sheriff sat back in his chair and put his booted feet up on his desk, shaking his head. “If I’d heard that talk about Standish’s mother sooner I would have kept a closer watch on things the past couple days. Never thought I’d hear myself say that saloon talk don’t spread fast enough for me, but this time it sure as hell didn’t.”

“Last night is better than not at all,” Sullivan told him with a shrug. “How about the rest of it, were you able to catch Miss Janey alone this morning?”

James smiled broadly around the rim of his coffee cup. “Yep,” he said. “Looks like she and the kid are moving to Four Corners next week, she’s gonna be the new cook at the hotel down there. I told her she made the right choice; I know Jen Abbott and she’s never in her life been like that Murphy woman is. And since that Jackson fella’s been doin’ everybody’s doctoring down that way for near four years there won’t be quite as many have a problem with coloreds as we’ve been getting here.”

The gambler snorted. “There weren’t so many ready to speak up publicly about it until the Murphys moved into town, it’s amazing to me how two bad apples can spoil a basket.” He sipped at his coffee thoughtfully. “They’re going to pitch a fit when they find out."

“Let them. I convinced Janey not to tell them anything – she always closes up the kitchen anyway, she can just leave them a note before she goes. There’ll be less trouble that way.” The sheriff frowned. “Only problem is, she won’t get all her pay if she does it like that.”

Sullivan smiled. “Why don’t you let me handle that end of things, Sheriff? Can I consider fair value to be the price the mercantile puts on things?”

James cocked his head. “Should I ask?”

“Probably not, no.” The gambler shrugged. “But there is precedent for such situations, fortunately, and if need be I can produce enough evidence to support that to make doing nothing your official responsibility.”

“Good, I like to keep things easy,” the older man said with a grin. “Guess that’s another reason I let you hang around my town, Sullivan.”

Sullivan chuckled into his coffee. “Because it would be more trouble than it was worth to run me out or because you actually find my devious nature to be useful to you?”

A wicked gleam appeared in James’ eyes. “I’d have to say that depends on what day it is, let me get back to you on that one. Of course I might be swayed a bit in my opinion if you wanted someone to accompany you to that wedding I’m sure you’re planning to go to; I hear they have some mighty fine cooks down in Four Corners besides the one they’re stealing from us, and I surely wouldn’t mind an excuse to see Jen Abbott again…”

 

The long hot day passed with agonizing slowness for all concerned, both on the road and in Four Corners. Mindful of Sullivan’s warning, Juliet and Mary stopped less frequently than they might have done and kept a careful eye on their surroundings; but the road was clear, and except for an occasional wagon heading back the way they’d come they saw no one at all. Ezra had noticed the same quiet when he’d ridden the noon patrol and had been relieved by it; he’d been equally relieved to receive a telegram from his fellow gambler in Eagle Bend saying that the two women had gotten off early that morning and that Sullivan and Sheriff James were keeping an eye on the road from their end.

It was still a long, hot day though. After finishing the midday meal his compatriots and the ever-vigilant Mrs. Abbott had forced him to eat Ezra took over minding the jail from Buck and settled in to wait for JD to relieve him. He was idly flipping his cards back and forth through his hands when the young sheriff blew in late in the afternoon with his hands full of envelopes and the week’s delivery of wanted posters. “Mail came!” JD announced. “You got a letter from Carson City, Ez.” It made the younger man happy to see the smile that lit up Ezra’s face when he handed over the envelope, although he wasn’t sure why the gambler’s poker face came back once he’d started reading the letter. “So when will Rosa May get here?”

Ezra folded the letter back up and tucked it away inside his coat. “It appears she will not be comin’ after all,” he said quietly. “She sends her regrets, but a rancher in the area has just lost his wife in childbirth and their help is needed to hold the family together – apparently Mr. Cartwright is not bearin’ up too well as this is not the first wife he’s lost.” He looked troubled for a moment and then put his cards into his pocket. “Unless you have need of me, then, ah believe ah shall be about mah business.”

“I’m sorry Rosa May can’t come to the wedding,” JD said sincerely. “I know you wanted her here.”

The gambler smiled ruefully. “One does not always get what they want, JD – but as long as mah mother does not see fit to grace us with her presence on this occasion ah shall still consider mahself to be fortunate indeed. And Rosa May will no doubt come for a visit as soon as she can be spared; ah understand how devastatin’ the loss of a wife can be, and at the moment ah fear Mr. Cartwright needs her far more than ah do.”

And with that he put his hat back on and left the jail…and a disturbed sheriff in his wake. JD took the chair the gambler had vacated and ran over the conversation in his head, trying to fix a meaning to the troubled look that had flashed across Ezra’s face. It hit him all at once. “Not the first…aw damn, Ez,” he murmured. “Just had to give you one more thing to worry about, didn’t I?”

 

Ezra was trying very hard _not_ to worry about it as he walked slowly up the boardwalk toward the saloon; he wasn’t actually heading for the saloon, it was just his habit to walk that way and instinct had taken over in the absence of decision. He barely managed to acknowledge the pair of worn boots that fell into step with him. “Mr. Tanner.”

“Geez, don’t look at a fella and then won’t call him by his first name either,” the tracker scolded, amusement in his voice. “Heard the kid say you got mail from Carson City, I’m guessin’ it wasn’t good news. She ain’t comin’?”

“She can’t – someone needs her there.”

“Someone needs her here, too.” Vin took his friend’s arm and guided him on into the saloon and to a seat at their regular table where Chris was already sitting. “You sharin’ your whiskey today, cowboy?”

“I could buy you boys a drink, I suppose,” Larabee chuckled. He took in the gambler’s subdued demeanor and cocked a questioning eyebrow at Vin, who shrugged and went to get two more glasses. “Problem, Ez?”

“Thinkin’, unfortunately,” was the subdued response. Ezra perked up enough to take the glass Vin brought him, but once it was filled he simply sat and stared into the amber liquid instead of drinking it. “A pastime ah’ve had a bit too much of the past few days.”

The tracker gave him a long look…and then held out his hand. “Hand it over, this ain’t gettin’ us nowhere.”

To Larabee’s surprise Ezra sighed and reached inside his jacket, extracting an envelope and handing it to the tracker. “A letter?” he asked. “From who?”

“Rosa May,” Vin told him, pulling the folded paper out of the envelope and frowning at it. “Damn, I wish everyone penned their letters like this, big enough for a fella to make out easy. Okay, so she’s sorry she can’t come, she really wanted to be here and she’ll be comin’ down to meet your new wife once everything up there in Carson is settled again.” He shook his head and handed the letter over to Chris, his frown becoming confused. “You know this Cartwright fella, Ez?”

“No, ah’m afraid not,” the gambler said quietly, still staring into his whiskey instead of drinking it. “But you have to agree that Rosa May’s presence is more necessary to his situation than it is to mine.”

Vin snorted. “I guess you could say that, but for someone who’s so understanding about the lady who’s like a ma to him not comin’ to his wedding, I’d have to say you’re not takin’ this as well as you want to be.”

“That isn’t it, Vin.” Chris set the letter aside and leaned forward to grasp the gambler’s wrist, lowering his voice. “Ezra, now you listen to me; you are not going to kill your wife, do you hear?” He ignored Vin’s gasp. “Sometimes a woman dies birthing a baby, I won’t deny it. But most of them don’t, and it wouldn’t surprise me if the one you’re marrying had hers Indian-style right in the kitchen and was baking a birthday cake for it when you came home for lunch. Hell, _your_ mother probably had you sitting at a poker table and then tried to place you as a bet!”

Ezra smiled slightly. “Actually, ah’ve been told ah was born rather mundanely at home, in spite of Mother’s wish to be someplace more entertainin’.” A twinkle appeared in his green eyes. “But ah have no doubt your supposition would have been near to correct had she been able to finagle her way out of the house; she has often complained that mah birth was a dreadful inconvenience to her.”

“She may have been inconvenienced, but she ain’t dead,” Vin told him, understanding now. “This here Cartwright guy Rosa May is helping, maybe his women were sickly, maybe he don’t take good care of ‘em like he should, we don’t have no way of knowin’ what’s goin’ on with him. But he ain’t you, pard.”

“Nope, he ain’t,” Chris agreed. He leaned back in his chair again and frowned. “Too bad Rosa May ain’t coming, though.”

Vin laughed and so did Ezra at the slightly plaintive note that had entered the gunslinger’s voice. “Mary just ain’t got the hang of that okra soup yet, does she?” the tracker teased him.

Chris grimaced good-humoredly and applied himself to his whiskey. “Nope. But she won’t quit tryin’, either.”  

 

The three men whiled away the rest of the afternoon over Chris’ bottle of whiskey and only left the saloon when said bottle had been emptied. They were heading back to the jail to check the new wanted posters when Ezra saw the wagon pulled up in front of his house and the step he’d been about to take somehow failed to connect with the ground; if Chris and Vin hadn’t been there, he most likely would have fallen off the boardwalk. “They’re back…”

“Yep.” Chris shared a wink with Vin and the two of them carefully steered the gambler down the street toward the wagon. “Right on time, I’d say.”

“Snap out of it, Ez,” Vin ordered quietly, using his hold on the man’s arm to shake him lightly. “Gonna scare the poor woman if you don’t.”

The two women had just finished dragging a rocking chair out of the back of the wagon when they saw the three men. Juliet’s face lit up. “Ezra!”

Decorum deserted him; Ezra strode across the distance that separated them and swept her into an embrace that was almost fierce, not even noticing Mary’s startled exclamation or Vin’s laugh. He rested his forehead against hers and shut his eyes, just drinking in her nearness, her presence. “Ah missed you,” he whispered. “Oh Lord, did ah evah miss you. Please don’t evah leave me again.”

She kissed the tip of his nose. “Next time you’ll be able to go with me, ma cher.” Pulling back slightly, she took a good look at him. “You were all right while I was gone, weren’t you?”

“No, not at all,” he answered honestly. “Ah thank you for the little missive you saw fit to leave with me, though.”

Juliet blushed. “And ah thank you for the bubble bath, it was such a wonderful surprise.”

“That was mah intention,” Ezra smiled down at her. “Ah trust the hotel lived up to my recommendation?”

“It most certainly did!” Then she frowned, a little worry line drawing itself between her brows. “That…that _woman_ who runs the restaurant leaves much to be desired, though.”

Ezra echoed her frown, moving over to the wagon to help with the packages. “I am sorry, I should have thought to warn you about that. I’ve wished more than once while visiting that establishment that Miss Janey the cook could find other employment, no person should have to work under such vitriolic conditions.”

“It looks like you got your wish then, Mr. Standish,” Mary commented dryly, but with a twinkle in her blue eyes as she swept past him. “Mr. Larabee, Mr. Tanner, if the two of you could put that crate in the kitchen…”

“I’m glad you already know her, then,” Juliet hedged, toying with one of the buttons on his vest. “She might feel more at ease if there’s a familiar face around…”

Ezra caught the fidgeting hand in his, comprehension dawning in his face. “You asked her to be your replacement?”

Juliet nodded up at him. “She has the sweetest little girl, Ezra,” she said sincerely. “But grown men pushed the child down on the boardwalk and no one said a word, and then when I heard that horrid woman she works for yelling at her in the kitchen…well, I just couldn’t _leave_ them there!”

“I shouldn’t have wanted to either,” he assured her. “As I said, Miss Janey’s situation in Eagle Bend is a disgraceful one she and little Emmeline will be better out of. And she is a fine cook as well – not so talented as you, of course, but close enough that the inevitable comparisons should not be unkind.” He spotted something incongruously colorful atop the wagon seat and his mouth dropped open when he realized what it was. “You bought a painted parasol?”

His little fiancée drew herself up and frowned at him. “It’s a sunshade, and very useful,” she scolded. “Simply because something is pretty doesn’t mean it isn’t practical.”

To her surprise, Ezra shifted the packages he’d been holding to one arm and pulled her back close to him with a laugh. “Ah am well aware of that, darlin’,” he told her, leaning back in to steal another kiss. “Very aware indeed.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

Buck kicked back in the chair outside the jail and watched the daily business of the town flow up and down the street with a lazy eye. It was another oppressively hot day with hardly a breeze blowing to stir the baked dust, but he was sitting in the shade and had forgone his long underwear for the day so he was relatively comfortable at his post. Not that there was anything to be on watch for, really, since Four Corners had been so quiet lately.

Not that he was complaining, no sirree. A little excitement now and then wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but Buck much preferred to earn his pay sitting at the jail or riding patrol than by dodging bullets or chasing outlaws. He smiled to himself, thinking of the talk he’d had a few days past with Matthew Dillon about how lawmen should save all the lead that was thrown at them and make a nice little side business from it. They’d had quite a laugh about how maybe doctors were doing just that, digging the bullets out of folks just so they could resell them. Nathan hadn’t thought it was funny, but then Nathan didn’t find much humor in life on a good day and he definitely hadn’t had one of those in a while. At least he hadn’t shot off his mouth in front of their Kansas visitors…but then maybe that had had less to do with Jackson learning to hold himself in and more to do with the surprise of finding out who the visitor actually was and why he’d stopped in Four Corners on his way to Albuquerque. Not that the rest of the Seven hadn’t been a bit surprised by him as well.

Buck had to laugh at that memory. Dillon was a big rawboned young man, easily two of JD, and he looked like a dime-novel illustration of a range cowboy; it had been funny to see him so in awe of Standish and Dunne, who looked so much less like they belonged in the West than he did. In spite of the obvious hero worship, though, the boy was steady and possessed a quiet sense of humor that Buck knew from experience would stand him in better stead as a lawman than the fastest gun to be had - although he’d need that too if he was going to stick around a place like Dodge above the ground and not under it. Buck had also been tickled at the way Ezra had puffed up with pride like a strutty little rooster when it came time to show off his bride-to-be to Dillon and his traveling companion, a doctor who also hailed from the wilds of Kansas. The two of them had only been in town a few hours before their stage had been ready to leave again, but it had been a pleasant visit all around. Ezra had told him after they’d left that Juliet knew of Matthew Dillon as a U.S. Marshal, which tickled Buck even more to know that his measure of the aspiring lawman’s character had been right on the money.

That had been two days ago, though, and now Buck was looking for something else to amuse himself with. He shifted on the creaky wooden chair and watched the townsfolk come and go with bored eyes. Josiah and Miss Julie were up at the village, Chris was out riding patrol and Vin was…well, he knew Vin was around somewhere. Ezra had gone into the saloon after lunch and not come back out yet and so far as Buck knew JD was in there with him. And Nathan had come out of his clinic a little while ago and gone into the dry goods store, which Buck knew must mean he was ordering more supplies. He didn’t envy the healer that encounter, seeing as how Mrs. Potter was still holding a grudge over what had happened those couple months back while Ezra was off in Eagle Bend. Not that Buck blamed her, though, not a bit.

Sure enough, a few moments later Nathan came out of the store looking tired and a little sour. Buck could understand that, but he still didn’t feel much sympathy for the healer on that score either. He debated waving the man over and trying to lighten his mood but almost immediately came to the conclusion that he’d much rather go back inside and sift through the wanted posters over a fresh cup of coffee, so he merely nodded at Nathan before disappearing back into the jail.

Nathan barely noticed the nod and only responded to it in kind instinctually, having other things on his mind. Mrs. Potter was allowing him in her store again, which was a relief, but she was also making it very plain that he wasn’t forgiven and so were Cedric and Cecily, much to his dismay. The twins were usually very friendly, and their innocent disdain hurt more than their mother’s more studied animosity did.

The clatter of a wagon pulling to a halt nearby distracted him from his thoughts and he looked up to see a weathered, mule-drawn vehicle with a dark-skinned old man holding the reins and a young woman with a child on her lap sitting next to him. The healer approached them curiously. “Howdy folks,” he said. “You new to Four Corners or just passin’ through?”

“Ah’m just passin’, young man, but Janey and mah little Emmy heah are new as dey can be,” the old man told him, deep brown eyes twinkling. “Moses Abel, at yoah service.”

Nathan took the offered hand. “Nathan Jackson, I’m one of the peacekeepers here.”

The twinkling eyes took on a narrower, speculative look. “Heard tell ‘bout you up in Eagle Bend, ah’d guess. You a healah, right?”

“Do my best.” Nathan had the sudden sinking feeling that his healing skills might not be all the old man had heard about, but he pushed it aside. “What brings you all to Four Corners?”

“A job,” Janey said, swinging down off of the wagon seat before Nathan could move to help her and then lifting her daughter down as well. “Do you known where ah might find Juliet Moore? She said to come on down this week and she’d have it all set up.”

Suspicion flared. “She hired you to work for her?” Nathan asked, grimacing. A vision of Rosa May came to mind, and some of what he was still feeling about that unintentionally colored his tone as he asked, “You here to be their ‘housekeeper’?”

To Nathan’s surprise the young woman drew herself up stiffly and glared at him. “Ah’m takin’ her place at the hotel you folks got here, they needed a _cook_ ,” she all but spat. “Should ah ask you if you’re only allowed to play lawman when they don’t need you as a field hand?”

The old man chuckled dryly but without much humor, and Nathan was still at a loss for words when the little girl squealed suddenly and darted past him. “Well look who’s here!” a familiar Southern voice exclaimed, and the healer turned just in time to see Ezra swing the delighted little girl up into his arms. The gambler came right up to them and tipped his hat to Janey, ignoring Nathan. “Miss Janey, my apologies for not bein’ out here to greet you; we received Sheriff James’ telegram late this mornin’, so you were expected. And this must be Mr. Abel, a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir – I’d offer my hand, but they are both rather full at present. I understand there was some unpleasantness in Eagle Bend which precipitated your departure?”

“Miz Murphy found out we was plannin’ on leavin’,” the young woman told him, relaxing her stiff stance somewhat. “Juliet,” she hesitated just slightly over using the absent woman’s first name, “said she’d have everything ready for us and just to come, so Moses helped me and Emmy with the wagon and here we are. She ain’t here?”

“Juliet goes out to the Seminole village each week with Reverend Sanchez to assist the children there with their education,” Ezra told her. “They left quite early this mornin’. She will be most distressed that she was not here to greet you, but I will be more than happy to help you get settled in her absence. I do hope the boardin’ house will be acceptable for the time being?”

Janey smiled. “Should be just fine. Ah’ve got enough…”

“Not necessary,” Ezra told her, shifting Emmeline onto his hip and offering the surprised young black woman his arm. “Your first week’s board has already been taken care of; apparently where my lovely wife-to-be hails from it is accepted business practice to offset the cost of relocation if a newly-recruited employee is required to move any appreciable distance. But if you like, once we have your things unloaded I can take you to the bank and you may deposit your excess funds there for safekeeping.”

Her eyes widened. Nathan wondered if she’d understood even half of the gambler’s fancy words, and he was prepared to step in when she answered, “Ain’t never had money in no bank…”

“ ‘Bout time you did, girl,” the old man said, obviously pleased. “Why don’ you go check dat room, Janey, and ah’ll wait with dis heah wagon ‘till you gets back. Don’t want no one foolin’ with dese ornery ol’ mules.”

“We shall return post haste, Mr. Abel,” Ezra told him with a polite nod. “And then I shall round up an associate or two of mine to assist with the contents of the wagon.”

Nathan just stood staring after them as they headed for the boarding house, wondering what Josiah would have to say about this incident…and if he could stand to hear it. A throat clearing dragged his attention back to the wagon. “Help an ol’ man down heah, boy,” Moses told him. “Dese ol’ bones’d right like to touch ground dat ain’t movin’ for a spell.” The healer hurried to do as he was asked, and once the old man was off the wagon seat he looked up at the younger man with another speculative brown gaze. “You gets treated all right by dese folks?”

“Yes sir,” Nathan answered quickly. “Miss Janey and her little one should be just fine here.”

“I ‘spect they should, with dat Mistah Standish lookin’ out for ‘em,” Moses said, much to Nathan’s surprise. “Janey knowed him a bit, and de sheriff he done tol’ me dat he’s a good man.” He cocked an eyebrow at Nathan. “Teachin’ Injun chilluns to read, huh?” When the younger man nodded he shook his head. “Well if dat don’ beat all. Teachin’ ‘em de Good Book?”

It was Nathan’s turn to shake his head. “Teachin’ them to read and write, don’t know as they’ve ever took a Bible up there to do it.”

“Well if dat don’ beat all,” the old man said again. “Oughts to teach ‘em de Good Book, though, ‘stead of lettin’ ‘em run around all heathen.”

Nathan almost choked on that but Moses didn’t appear to notice. The younger man recovered himself quickly. “Well, Mr. Abel, it was a pleasure to meet you but I’d best be gettin’ back to the clinic…”

Moses slanted a wise look up at him. “You didn’ look like no man in a hurry to me jus’ a minute ago, boy. Now why don’ you jus’ stick around a bit, ah guess Mistah Standish don’ need to be lookin’ for someone to help unload dis heah wagon when you’s already right heah available.”

“Guess I could do that,” Nathan agreed, trying not to sigh. It was hot, he was out of sorts…but it really didn’t make sense for him to go back up to the clinic and do make-work when there was something that needed doing right here. But if he’d only come up with a quicker excuse…mentally, Nathan smacked himself in the back of the head even for thinking it. He wouldn’t tolerate that kind of thing from anyone else, so he couldn’t afford to let himself get by with it either. But still… “You want me to go fetch you somethin’ cold to drink, Mr. Abel? Just take me a minute…”

The old man nodded. “Now dat’s right thoughtful of you,” he said. “Go on, ah’ll be waitin’ right heah.” Nathan hurried off in the direction of the saloon, and Moses chuckled to himself. “Think you’s right slick dere, huh boy? May be ah’ll jus’ be tellin Mistah Standish dat you can unload dis heah wagon all by yoah own self, we’ll see who gots mo’ cunnin’ roun’ heah, dat we will.”  

 

Ezra headed out on patrol after the wagon was unloaded, riding part of the way beside the slow-moving mules as Moses began making his way back to his small homestead. The gambler and Nathan had both tried to convince the old man to stay in town for the night, Nathan had even offered him a place to sleep in the clinic, but Moses had been adamant that he wanted to be getting home and both younger men had realized there was no arguing with him. That Ezra’s actual patrol route was originally to have been in a completely different direction wasn’t something either of them saw fit to share with the old man, though. Nathan had tracked down Chris and JD and told them both about the change and then had gone back up to his clinic.

The healer spent most of the rest of his afternoon doing make-work and thinking about what Moses had said earlier with regards to teaching the Indian children up at the village, and it had put that particular situation into a different light for him. Nathan might be stubborn, but when he knew he was wrong his conscience wouldn’t let him avoid admitting it for long. So when he saw Josiah and Juliet ride back into town he came down from the clinic and put himself in a place to intercept them before they reached the livery. “How’d it go today?” he asked, pacing himself alongside of Job’s lazy gait.

Josiah raised an eyebrow at him. “It was a very good day, brother,” he rumbled, just a touch suspiciously. “Was there somethin’ you needed?”

Nathan nodded. “Thought I’d let Miss Julie know that Miss Janey and little Emmeline got into town a few hours ago, they’re settlin’ in over at the boarding house.”

Juliet blinked down at him, rubbing her eyes, and Nathan realized that she must have just woken up as they entered town. “Thank you for tellin’ me, Mr. Jackson,” she said. “Ah wasn’t expectin’ them today, are the two of them all right?”

“Yeah, they’re just fine,” he reassured her. “Just had to leave a mite earlier than they expected.”

She bit her lip, looking up at Josiah. “It just had to have been that horrid woman, she must have found out they were leaving. Ah had hoped…”

“They’re here now, Little Sister,” Josiah reassured her. “And Sheriff James wouldn’t have let things get out of hand.”

“Nope,” Nathan agreed. “He’s a good man, don’t stand for nonsense like that in his town.” Juliet nodded, rubbing her eyes again, and he was struck by how young she looked. “And Miss Julie, I just wanted to say…I just realized today that I ain’t never told you what a good thing I think it is you’re doin’ up at the village, the way you’re respectin’ their ways and all while you’re teachin’ those kids to read.”

Indigo eyes blinked at him again, startled. “Thank you, Mr. Jackson,” she replied slowly. “I was taught that multicultural education is all well and good but it shouldn’t be used to eradicate native culture.”

Nathan made a face; she was talking just like Ezra, he thought, using words no one else understood. “Multi what?”

“Multicultural education,” Josiah repeated for him with a chuckle. “It means teaching the young about cultures other than their own in order to promote acceptance through understanding. But apparently some educators also abuse the process to impart their own ideas of cultural superiority.”

Nathan rolled his eyes; now Josiah was doing it. And he could tell by the twinkle in those pale blue eyes that it was intentional, too. He stopped himself from commenting on that, though. “Can’t say it’s a bad idea if it makes folks accept each other for who they are,” he said instead. “I’m guessin’ Grey Owl thinks it’s all right too.”

“He does,” Josiah said placidly. A slightly worried expression suddenly appeared on his face. “Good evening to you, Ezra,” he called out.

Nathan looked past the large horse and saw the gambler approaching them rapidly, and he didn’t look happy. “Is there a problem, gentlemen?” Ezra asked tightly.

“Nope, Brother Nathan was just telling us about Janey and Emmeline,” Josiah replied. “How are they settlin’ in?”

“Very nicely,” Ezra answered him, tearing his suspicious gaze away from the healer. His face cleared when he held out his hands to help his fiancée down from Pharisee’s broad back, though, and he smiled when she returned his careful hug. “Was it a pleasant journey, darlin’?”

“It’s too bad you couldn’t have come with us,” she told him, smiling through a genteelly-covered yawn that made him chuckle. “But I know you needed to watch for your friend’s stage, and I’m glad you were here to greet Janey and little Emmeline. I’m certain they were glad to see a familiar face.”

“The sheriff’s telegram came after you’d left this mornin’,” he explained, taking the bundle of books and papers that Josiah handed down to him and offering Juliet his free arm. “Thank you, Josiah. Will you be visitin’ the saloon later this evenin’?”

“Think I’ll probably stop in for a bit after I’ve got Pharisee settled,” the preacher told him.   Josiah dismounted himself as the young couple walked off toward the dry goods store, then caught up the reins and tugged Pharisee into the stable. Nathan trailed them in. “Somethin’ else you need, Brother?”

“Nope.” The healer leaned against the side of the box as Josiah began settling his horse for the night. “Just wanted to…well, wanted to say I was sorry, Josiah.”

The older man lifted an eyebrow. “Sorry? For what?”

Nathan snorted softly and shook his head. “For spittin’ out water and chewin’ on loco weed, that’s what.”

Josiah stared at him for a minute, and then he grinned broadly. “Now this story I’ve just got to hear.”

 

Janey settled in at the hotel so smoothly it was as though she’d always been there, which was a good thing since business was booming in the face of the oppressive heat – no one wanted to stoke up the fire in their own kitchen while the sun was still riding high if they could help it, and the hotel dining room was full to capacity almost every day. The young black woman had confided to Juliet that every time Mrs. Abbott came into the kitchen and didn’t yell she felt like she was ‘right up in Heaven’. Emmeline was happy too, able to come and go from the hotel kitchen as she pleased without fear of being chased away and allowed to eat right alongside her mother and Juliet and Mrs. Abbott when they took their own meals.

Juliet’s brother Jesse arrived in town two days later, driving his wife in a small surrey-type wagon pulled by two well-bred paint horses with Charlie riding alongside on Zombie. Mrs. McLaughlin’s appearance caused quite a stir amongst the townsfolk; as tall as her husband and dressed in the height of fashion, enough so even to put Mary Travis to shame, she had smooth skin the color of milk-filled tea and beautifully exotic features crowned by pinned and curled masses of luxuriant black hair. She didn’t speak much or loudly, but her large dark eyes and shy smile reflected a disposition as gentle as a child’s and it seemed at times that her rapport with her enamored husband transcended words.

Ezra, after observing them together, was certain it did – and in a much more direct sense than he thought most everyone else in town was equipped to recognize. He wasn’t about to ask about it, though, knowing that he probably wouldn’t like what Jesse would tell him. And he had other things weighing more on his mind at present anyway, like the wedding that would be occurring in less than a week and the fact that his best man hadn’t arrived yet.    

He’d been waiting since Monday, watching every stage that came in, and he was waiting impatiently when Saturday’s last stage finally pulled up in front of the hotel in a cloud of hot dust and a clatter of pebbles. The first person to get out was, to his infinite relief, the one he’d been waiting for, a handsome man in his late thirties with dark wavy hair who immediately turned around to help two young ladies out of the vehicle and shooed them toward the hotel. Then he looked around and smiled broadly when he spotted the nervous gambler. “Ezra, you look like a man who’s either about to get married or about to get shot!”

Ezra grinned and stuck out his hand, but didn’t resist when the older man used it to pull him into a bearhug. “Benjamin, it’s good to see you.”

“Not half as good as it is to see you.” Ben Maverick pulled back and looked his friend over with an assessing blue gaze. “Still ain’t got no sense when it comes to dressin’ yourself, I see,” he teased, brushing dust off the sleeve of Ezra’s coat. “And it looks like you’ve done swapped colors on me—or is this the color of the lucky lady’s eyes?” He laughed out loud when the gambler blushed. “Hot damn, I guess you are in love!”

“With the most wonderful woman on earth,” was Ezra’s reply. “Aren’t the boys with you?”

As if on cue, first one small head and then another appeared at the carriage door. “Pappy? Can we get out now?” At their father’s nod both boys, one a miniature edition of Ben Maverick and the other older and taller with fairer coloring, bounded out to stand at his side. The younger boy cocked his head. “Uncle Ezra?”

Ezra’s face lit up. “Wasn’t certain you’d remember me, Bret,” he drawled, and then dropped to one knee and held out his arms; after a bare second’s hesitation, the two boys rushed him and all but bowled him over. Ezra didn’t seem to mind. “You’ve both grown so much!” He pushed them back and took a good look at them. “I believe some refreshment would be in order after your journey, would it not? If you boys would just run around to the back of the hotel and knock on the kitchen door, I believe tellin’ the woman who answers that I sent you should produce favorable results.”

The boys looked to their father for permission, and at his nod tore off around the side of the hotel. Ezra stood up and dusted himself off, straightening his hat that the enthusiastic greeting had knocked askew. “Lord, how the two of them have grown.”

“Don’t I know it – eatin’ me out of house and home already,” Ben snorted. He smiled down at his shorter friend. “Everyone back home sends their best wishes, got a trunk full of weddin’ presents for you that they kept loadin’ me up with when they found out you were gettin’ married.” He shook his head. “Just don’t eat the red preserves, old Widow Jensen made ‘em.”

The gambler made a face that betrayed past experience with old Widow Jensen’s cooking. “Beets again?”

“She never gives up,” was the older man’s reply. His smile slipped a little. “And speakin’ of people who don’t give up…Maude tried to pass through ‘bout a year ago. Didn’t want to pass something like that along to you in a letter. Things didn’t go so well.”

Ezra sighed. “Who’d she get?”

“Nobody.” Ben didn’t quite smile. “Didn’t go so well for _her_ , was what I meant. We ran her out.” The gambler stared at him, and the older man shook his head. “Word gets around, my friend; ‘bout a year ago, word got around about your saloon. You’ve got a lot of friends down our way, lot of people who remember you with a smile and not a frown, and let me tell you that woman’s reception once they figured out who she was kind of took her by surprise.”

Ezra just shook his head. “I’ve been afraid somethin’ like that might eventually happen here as well,” he said. “A few of my compatriots were none too pleased with her either over that situation, but she is oblivious, as usual.”

Ben lowered his voice. “Ezra, I’m not sure ‘oblivious’ quite covers it anymore; Maude is gettin’ damn careless these past few years—or damn desperate, somethin’ like that. You wrote me about what happened three years ago at Fort Laramie. Were they really goin’ to hang that boy?”

“Yes.” Green eyes hardened at the memory. “And he was just a boy, no older than our Sheriff Dunne—he wasn’t even a fool, just inexperienced in the ways of the world. I was lucky that Judge Travis could see it as well, else that crooked excuse for a lawyer she’d included in her scheme would have happily sent the boy to the gallows for the crime of bein’ young and innocent.” He sighed. “I tried to confront her with it the next time we encountered one another…”

“…You mean the next time she wanted you for a con,” his friend corrected.

Ezra smiled, just a little bitterly. “That too. She accused me of bein’ weak and sentimental and then upbraided me for involvin’ myself in the situation—said mah ‘interference’ had cost her dearly as the good judge had passed the particulars of the case around the circuit and thereby prevented her from usin’ the con again.”

Ben cocked his head. “You tell him to do that?”

“I advised him that it might be wise,” the gambler said with a little twinkle in his eye. “Of course, I didn’t see fit to share that part of the story with Mother; somehow I don’t believe she would be as appreciative as the judge was.”

“Nope, probably not.” Ben patted his friend’s shoulder sympathetically. “Well, you know what they say; you can pick your friends, but you’re stuck with your relatives.”

“Truer words were never spoken—even if they did come from you,” Ezra replied. “You realize that the boys will grow up believin’ all these pearls of wisdom are yours, do you not?”

“Of course!” Ben beamed at him. “If I’m lucky they’ll spend the rest of their lives quotin’ me—they’re startin’ to already. Fifty years from now everyone else will probably believe I came up with all that stuff too.”

“Ah yes, immortality at the price of a few borrowed words; it’s a clever plan, I must say.”

At that point the boys came racing back out of the alley with huge grins on their faces, the older boy carrying a laden napkin. “Uncle Ezra, she had cookies! She gave us some for you and Pappy, too!”

“Did you remember your manners, boys?” their father asked sternly.

“She said we were perfect little Southern gentlemen,” Bret said solemnly. “We helped her bring in wood for the stove.”

“And I carried out the ash bucket and dumped it for her,” Bart added. He gave his adopted uncle a thoughtful look. “If I were just a little bigger I could marry her.”

Ezra held back a grin. “If you were just a little bigger and said that to me, I believe I would have to call you out,” he said with mock seriousness. “As it stands, I believe you shall have to be content with havin’ the lady for your aunt.”

That made both boys very happy, and they immediately darted back around the side of the hotel. Their father rolled his eyes. “Ten to one they’ll both just stand outside the screen starin’ at her.”

“Perhaps I should join them, then,” Ezra chuckled. “Protect my interests from young Bart and get some more cookies as well since the boys took our share with them.”

“Oh, I can see the writin’ on the wall,” Ben mourned, playfully patting the flat front of Ezra’s silk embroidered waistcoat. “Hope for your sake she can let the seams in this out, you’re gonna fatten up in no time.”

“Heaven forbid.” Ezra slapped his hand away. “She’d never allow it; Juliet says too much ‘sign of success’ is unhealthy and shortens a person’s life.” Then he winked. “And she can’t sew to save her life, which saves me the agony of havin’ to wear garments not up to my exactin’ standards.”

“Oh heaven forbid, we couldn’t have that.” Ben rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I just don’t know how a peacock like you survives out here in the wild frontier, Ezra, I really don’t – or at least I wouldn’t if I didn’t know you so damn well.” He slapped the smaller man on the shoulder. “Come on, help me with that monster of a trunk and then let’s go meet this velvet-eyed woman my son wants to take away from you. Don’t know what I’m gonna do with that boy, I’m already seein’ a shotgun wedding in his future and he ain’t even old enough to shave yet.”

Ezra tugged up his end of the heavy trunk with a grunt and a grin. “Well, our Mr. Wilmington seems to have escaped that fate so far, perhaps he might have some advice –I doubt it would be advice fit for Bart’s tender ears, but you might be amused by it. I’ll have to introduce the two of you at supper.”

“I expect to be introduced to _everyone_.” A more serious note crept into the older man’s face and voice. “No more problems since your last letter, I hope?”

Ezra glanced across the street, seeing Nathan standing on his landing and looking down at them, squinting against the sun to see better, and he shook his head. “No, no more problems. Just…annoyances.”

 

Ben Maverick was a genial man with a pleasant, deceptively open face that never once betrayed that evening just how much he actually knew about the six men who worked with his friend to protect the small dusty town they had settled in. And how much he knew was a lot, Ezra wrote him regularly and told him everything. Well, almost everything; Ben could tell there was something going on with the McLaughlin family that he didn’t know about, but then two government agents showed up and one of them was the wife-to-be’s uncle so he decided there was probably a good reason Ezra hadn’t said anything and let it go. Gordon and West seemed like good men to him, and they both liked Ezra – and friends in high places couldn’t be a bad thing in Ben’s eyes.

Of course, friends in low places couldn’t either. The next day Ben made his way around the dusty town Ezra had seen fit to settle in and met everyone he could. He wasn’t hiding the fact that he was checking things out, and when Chris said something to him about it in the saloon that afternoon Ben wasn’t embarrassed to talk about it either. “He’s practically my little brother, if he’s plannin’ to stay here I aim to make sure he’s makin’ a good choice,” he told the lawman, unoffended. “Not that I mistrust his judgment, mind you, but sometimes a man sees what he wants to see.”

Chris sat back in his chair, toying with his whiskey. He and Maverick and Jim West had the saloon mostly to themselves at the moment, which was why he’d chosen that particular time to ask some questions he wasn’t sure the Mississippian would answer for a crowd. The gambler was off on patrol and Gordon had gone with him, Buck, JD and Charlie had gotten roped into helping Josiah at the church, and Vin had gone hunting – which Chris knew meant the tracker was checking his bolt-holes on the off chance that a bounty hunter showed up in town. Chris sometimes went with him to do that, but today he’d had questions he wanted to ask. Ezra had introduced Ben Maverick as a good friend, but Maverick’s boys called the gambler ‘Uncle’ just like they were blood related. “So you met him in Mississippi, where you all are from?”

“He showed up on my doorstep in the middle of a hot afternoon,” Ben answered. He’d been wondering when one of these boys Ezra rode with would start asking questions; it was what he would have done. “Kind of funny how things go the way they do. Was toward the end of the War, he had my brother Bertram’s watch and some of his other stuff, said he’d happened on a man dyin’ after some battle who’d asked him to deliver them – guess the fella had promised Bert he’d get ‘em back home to me, let me know what’d happened. Ez handed them over and told me what he knew, then turned around and took two steps and fell flat on his face.” He shook his head, remembering. “Damned swamp fever. I took him in, told everyone he was my brother come back else the Army would have dragged him off to the camps and he would’ve died for sure. He came too damned close as it was. And by the time he was back on his feet the boys were sure he was their uncle and half the neighbors were too, so I just let it be.”

“Happens that way sometimes,” West said with a nod, pouring himself another drink. It had happened a lot during the War – no one wanted to see a boy go to the camps if they could help it, and many Southern families were larger at war’s end than they had been before its beginning in spite of sons and brothers lost to the Union’s bullets. “So I’m guessing you know about his mother.”

“I’ve had the misfortune.” Ben shrugged and took another sip of his own whiskey. “Still no word on where she is?”

“Nope. And I don’t like it.”

“You’d like it less if she was here.”

Chris snorted. “I don’t like it that she’s anywhere – but I’d feel a lot better about this wedding if I knew where ‘anywhere’ was right about now.”

“Not all surprises are good ones,” Ben agreed. He sighed and stretched his legs out under the table. “I don’t think it’s likely, but it is possible she’s tangled up in something right now and can’t get herself out of it to come down here. Once I found out what family Ez is marryin’ into I was surprised Maude wasn’t hangin’ around here already pantin’ after the McLaughlin money.”

It was West’s turn to snort. “Jesse would cut her to pieces – maybe even literally if she was stupid enough to mess with his family. If she knows who he is, she’ll stay clear of him.”

Ben just shook his head, thinking of Maude’s foray into Jasper, of the things his friend had written in his letters…and the things he’d left out.   “She would if she was smart,” he told them. “But lately Maude Standish ain’t smart - just dangerous.”

 

The next day, Tuesday, was a busy day all over town. Chris doubled up his men on their patrols, just in case, and drafted Gordon and West and Charlie Corielle to help out too. Ezra insisted on taking patrol, so Chris made him go out in the morning and then after lunch they all kept him busy moving most of his personal effects from his room above the saloon over to the new house. Juliet had been busy for a time in the new house too until Mrs. Potter had caught up with her; by order of half the women in town, she wasn’t supposed to be working at all on the day before her wedding. Ezra came by the store to ‘rescue’ his fiancée that evening for an early supper, then kissed her goodnight at the door before heading over to the saloon where his friends and half the other men in town were waiting for him. He was hoping that after a handful of toasts the alcohol would help him find the sleep he could already tell would be eluding him this night.

The party went on pretty late, but Ben was still up before dawn and had ended up making a little patrol of his own around the quiet, empty streets of Four Corners. To tell the truth, he’d been unable to sleep. Wedding nerves, that’s what it was, the very ones Ezra was avoiding at the moment thanks to Gordon’s knockout drops from the night before. His friend was still sound asleep at Josiah’s, so Maverick was taking the opportunity to work himself into a state of complete calm by walking around the still-sleeping town; he knew that Ezra would need him to be his anchoring force today.

He had walked the length of two streets when a noise drew his attention. He followed the sound down an alley behind the dry goods store, then followed a heavenly smell over to the kitchen door that was standing partially open. Peeking inside, he smiled. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be doin’ any more work, Miss Juliet?”

Juliet jumped. “Mr. Maverick? Whatevah are you doin’ out there?”

“Just takin’ a walk, saw the kitchen door open and thought I’d see what was goin’ on.” He leaned against the door frame and tipped back his hat. “And apparently somethin’s goin’ on.”

She blushed and rubbed at red eyes. “I just wanted to…to contribute something. They won’t let me help, with anything.” She picked up one of the small cakes she’d been working over and brought it to him. “I thought these might be nice, but I knew I’d have to get up early to make them or Mrs. Potter would stop me.”

Ben took the offered confection and looked at it in astonishment. It was a little iced cake decorated with tiny flowers and curling ribbon made from softly colored sugar icing. He raised an eyebrow. “Miss Juliet, this is darn near too pretty to eat.”

“Go ahead, there are plenty. As a mattah of fact…” Hopeful indigo eyes turned up to him, so sad he caught his breath. “If you’d like a cup of tea, ah’d…ah wouldn’t mind some company.”

Ben swept off his hat with a bow. “I’d be honored,” he told her. Now that he’d gotten a closer look, he wouldn’t have left anyway unless it was to go get the girl’s brother; those eyes weren’t red from slaving over the stove, she’d been crying. He examined the little cake more closely once he was sitting down, comparing it to the others on the full tray right in front of him on the table. “This is just amazing, Miss Juliet, they’re all like tiny little works of art. This is quite a talent you’ve got.”

“That was why I wanted to make the wedding cake, actually.” Juliet finished getting his tea, then sighed and sat down rather heavily in the chair opposite him. “I used to make extra money for school by doing fancy cakes for people and I’d always dreamed of doing my own, I knew exactly how I wanted it to look…”

“And then they wouldn’t let you help,” he finished sympathetically and received a wordless nod in answer. It was the little sniff she tried to drown in her own tea that galvanized him into action; one of the things Ben Maverick prided himself on was his ability to come up with a solution to almost any problem, and he considered letting this gentle little woman sit in the kitchen holding back tears on her wedding day to be a definite problem. His quick mind raced over the situation and almost immediately came up with an answer. He put down his cup decisively. “Miss Juliet, do you have time to bake another cake?”

Her eyes widened. “The oven is still hot enough, I suppose I could. But they won’t let me…”

“They won’t let you make _your_ wedding cake,” he told her pointedly. “It’s supposed to be bad luck, I know. But there is no such superstition about the _groom’s_ cake.” She looked a question at him. “I’m not really surprised no one thought of it, it’s kind of an old fashioned custom, but I think under the circumstances it would be just about right. Now what can I do to help you?”

Juliet’s face lit up, all the enthusiasm that had been missing from it before flooding back in. “You just sit right there,” she ordered, standing up. “I’ll put on more water for tea…”

Two cups of tea later and more little cakes than were really good for him, Ben was watching the two small layers of Ezra’s cake cool while Juliet beat hard icing in a heavy bowl and explained to him how she was going to roll it out to make a smooth covering for the cake. The young woman was as happy as he wanted to see her now, but although she was completely caught up in what she was doing Ben had kept a watchful ear on the back stairs, waiting for Mrs. Potter to come down. He didn’t think the storekeeper would be a problem once she knew what was going on, but he needed to make sure she found out what was going on before she reacted to the kitchen full of illicit wedding cooking and undid everything he’d just accomplished. So when he heard Mrs. Potter coming, long before Juliet did, Ben got up to head her off before she had time to say anything. “Mrs. Potter, just the person I wanted to see,” he greeted her genially – and managed to put himself between her and Juliet at the same time. “I wonder if I might have a word with you, just take a moment. I just have a small question I wanted to ask you, about the wedding.”

Gloria went with him, unwillingly but constrained by politeness from breaking away and going back into the kitchen. Manners didn’t stop her from frowning at him, though. “Mr. Maverick…”

“I snagged one of these for you, here you go,” he interrupted, holding out a petit four to her. “I doubt they’ll last long once everyone sees them.”

“I…” She took the little cake with an even deeper frown that went past Ben toward the kitchen. “I _told_ Juliet she wasn’t to…”

“Oh yes, my question – I’ll be quick, I know you want to get in there and watch her do the cake; when I saw these little ones I halfway wondered if she made them with a magic wand.” He gestured at the petit four to refocus her attention. “My question was this, Mrs. Potter, and please forgive me for pokin’ my nose in…but did any of you, even once, ask that little girl what _she_ wanted for this wedding?”

Gloria’s eyes flew up to his in shock. “What do you mean? It’s her…” Maverick cupped his hand under hers, lifting the cake up to eye level so she had a good view of a tiny spray of forget-me-nots. “Oh. Oh _dear_.”

“She told me she used to do fancy cakes for people to make money,” Ben informed her gently. “Said she’d known just how she wanted to do her own for a long time.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t suppose any of you asked her _why_ she wanted to make the cake, did you?”

“No.” Gloria heaved a sigh, shaking her head. “We just told her it was bad luck and she finally stopped asking.” She raised an eyebrow of her own. “So exactly what sort of cake is it you’ve got her baking right now, may I ask? There’s already a stack cake for the wedding.”

“She’s makin’ the groom’s cake,” Ben told her, and smiled at her look of surprise. “I know, I know – last groom’s cake I saw was before the War. But old fashioned or not, makin’ it will make her happy and I think a bride should be happy on her wedding day, don’t you? Not just done cryin’ and tryin’ not to start again like she was when I found her.”

“Oh dear,” Gloria repeated. “I just didn’t think. Everyone wanted to help…”

“Miss Juliet did too.” It wasn’t an accusation. Ben offered her his arm. “Now, I don’t know about you but I want to see how she does it, and if you don’t mind she said I could sit in the kitchen while she worked. Care to join me?”

Gloria looked at him for a moment, then smiled back and took the offered arm. “I’d be delighted, Mr. Maverick. It’s going to be quite the busy day, I believe having a nice relaxing sit-down before it starts would be just the thing.”

 

Ben left the Potters’ once the cake was mostly done and wandered over to the hotel and up to his room to wake his sons and bring them down for breakfast. He didn’t want any breakfast himself after all the cake he’d already eaten, so he drank black coffee while the boys ate and watched townsfolk and guests alike trickle in as the morning progressed. The wedding itself wouldn’t happen until noon, but he knew that the half-empty dining room was mostly due to people anticipating the feast they’d have after the ceremony. Josiah brought Ezra in before long, leaving him for Ben to wake up the rest of the way with more coffee while the preacher went about his own preparations for the wedding. And once both breakfast and waking up had been leisurely accomplished, the two men saw the boys cleaned up and left to help the working girls set up tables in the churchyard while they met up with Chris and Vin at the saloon, had one final, nerve-settling drink, and then set about getting Ezra ready for his bride.

Ezra’s room above the saloon looked barren and odd without the big feather bed the gambler loved so much; the bed, and most all of his other possessions except for the clothes he’d be wearing to his wedding and a few necessary toiletries, had been taken over to the house the day before. The mirror was still there, though, atop its clean but battered dresser, and the window was rapidly becoming curtained with shadows as the sun ascended over the rooftop’s peak.

Ben slapped Ezra’s hands away for the third time and glared down at the smaller man. “Ez, you leave that damned tie alone or I’m gonna strangle you with it! Vin, Chris, help me out here.” Grinning, the two men obligingly pinned the nervous Southerner’s arms down to his sides while the silk scarf was retied one more time. “Dammit, you’d think you’ve never done this before, Ezra!”

“It has been twelve years,” was the nervous reply. Ezra looked out the window and then around the bare room; his arms twitched, and he suddenly became aware of the restraining hands. “Kindly unhand me, gentlemen!”

“Naw, you’ll just go fer your tie again,” Vin drawled, tightening his grip slightly. “Ez, you act like you’re afraid she won’t show up or somethin’.”

Wide green eyes flickered up to his and then looked just as quickly away. Chris cuffed him lightly with his free hand. “You idiot; do we have to remind you this is the same woman who defended your sorry ass to two vicious little bitches who had a knife at her throat? Now don’t make me have to explain to her why I felt like I had to hit her husband before the wedding, okay?”

“Her husband would hit you back,” Ezra informed him, then flexed his arms again and amended, “Or at least kick you – and then you’d have to be explainin’ to Mrs. Travis why you were walkin’ funny at my weddin’ and couldn’t dance.” His green eyes twinkled. “But ah suppose that would give you an excuse for not bein’ able to dance, wouldn’t it?”

Chris scowled down at him. “I can dance, you little Southern shit. And I’ll prove it to you this afternoon. It’s Vin that can’t dance.”

The tracker rolled his eyes. “Oh no, he already roped you, Cowboy; I’m not steppin’ into that one just because you did.” He winked at Ezra. “Got a bet with Mrs. Travis, huh Ez?”

“Mrs. Travis is far too much a lady to gamble,” Ezra told him, and grinned. “But she may have happened to mention in my hearin’ that she had no hopes Mr. Larabee here would deign to dance with her durin’ today’s festivities.”

“And then Buck bet with him that she was right,” Ben added. He finished with the scarf and stepped back to look at it, and the other two men let go their hold on the gambler. “Perfect, if I do say so myself – now keep your hands off it so it stays that way. And I think that little woman of yours may have somethin’ here, Ez,” he observed, nodding thoughtfully. “This does look a sight better than that stiff collar you’re supposed to be wearin’ would have.”

Ezra snorted. “When Juliet saw the collar she looked at me like ah’d lost my mind and asked why ah’d want to put on such a ridiculous lookin’ thing,” he said. “There was no way ah was goin’ to wear it after that.”

Chris muttered something about a peacock under his breath. Vin made a show of looking behind the gambler, then shook his head. “Nope, no peacock feathers back here. She must’ve plucked ‘em all. I’m sure they’ll grow back, though; they always do.”

“Mistah Tannah, keep that wit up and ah’ll make sure you don’t get any cake,” Ezra threatened. He lifted one hand toward his throat, then stopped himself when the other three men glared at him. “Ah suppose we should be gettin’ to the church, no doubt Josiah is waitin’ for us.”

“Might be best to get in there before the throng descends,” Ben agreed. He threw an arm around his friend’s shoulders and started moving him toward the door. “Just think, in less than an hour you’ll be married to the best cook in the territory, Ez.”

“Ah’ll be married to much more than that,” the gambler replied, letting the supporting arm guide him without resistance. He was feeling a little dazed and he knew Ben knew it; even after the past few months of preparation the situation still seemed somehow…unreal. Especially since there’d been no sign of Maude in all that time.

He only hoped there’d be no sign of her for just less than an hour more.

 

The last stragglers had entered the church; it was time. Artemus took his leave of his partner at the doors of the church and crossed the street, little puffs of dust kicking up in his wake. He was rather surprised that Juliet hadn’t met him halfway, but surmised that Mrs. Potter and Mrs. Travis had probably prevented her from leaving until he came for her. He rolled his eyes. Traditions. Ben had told him about that morning’s encounter in Mrs. Potter’s kitchen, and the agent was still kicking himself for not seeing the problem and dealing with it earlier – thank goodness he wasn’t so thoughtless at work, for the country’s sake. Artemus tugged at his lapels and pushed open the door of the dry goods store, a hot slice of high noon sunlight following him inside. “Well, Juliet, are you…” And then he froze there, one hand still on the door, trying to take in what he was seeing. “Oh my lord,” he whispered.

 

Ezra was fidgeting again, and Josiah was determinedly ignoring Chris’ repeated gestures urging him to smack the smaller man upside the head to make him stop; in truth, the preacher was almost as nervous as the gambler, he was just hiding it better. He was about to send Vin to see what was keeping the rest of the wedding party when Bart and Bret pushed open the church doors and Gordon walked in with Juliet on his arm.

A breathless silence fell over all assembled, and Mary, Gloria and Meg beamed at each other as they slipped in behind her; after much fruitless searching for just the right pattern they had finally ended up using a picture from one of Billy’s fairy tale books. That particular volume had been a gift from the boy’s grandfather and was graced with delicately colored illustrations by a prominent European artist; one particular plate showed Snow White on her wedding day, and the obvious similarities between the fabled runaway princess and their little Juliet had inspired the three women. The gown they had created thanks to Meg’s skill with a needle was beautiful and fanciful and yet simple enough not to be ridiculous in the rustic environment of Four Corners – the plain white dress underneath the floating cloud of sheer illusion and lace could be dyed to a more serviceable color after the wedding. A dainty white lace mantilla, a gift from Inez, crowned Juliet’s unbound ebony tresses instead of a veil; the softly colored light from Josiah’s makeshift stained-glass window caught on the small gems sewn here and there in the lace headcovering, creating a soft, transient sparkle that was nothing short of magical.

Josiah recovered himself first, and he beamed at the openmouthed gambler. “Well, son,” he said very softly. “For three years I’ve been hearing folks say that someday you’d get what was coming to you; looks like today’s the day.”

Ezra barely heard him, so transfixed was he by the vision Gordon was leading toward them, but he recovered himself enough to take Juliet’s hand – the hand wearing his ring – when the agent offered it to him. The formal passing over of the bride wasn’t traditional or even common, but Gordon had decided it was a necessary gesture; there were still some in Four Corners who doubted the wisdom of he and Jesse ‘allowing’ Juliet to marry the gambler, and making a show of giving away the bride would settle them. The agent stepped back once Ezra had drawn his small bride up beside him, graciously ushering Meg into her bridesmaid’s place opposite Ben before retiring to the pew his partner was sitting in. If he was actually swiping away something when he rubbed at his eyes as he sat down, West graciously pretended he hadn’t seen what it was.

Josiah cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. He’d thought long and hard on what words to use, and had finally settled on a ceremony somewhere between one he’d once heard his father intone under a revival tent and the plainly beautiful words of a wedding he’d been privileged to attend in a meeting house of the Society of Friends. “Brother’s and sisters,” he rumbled. “Today we come together to witness the fulfillment of a sacred trust as old as the hallowed Garden of Eden, the joining of man and woman in the holy bond of matrimony. These two of our Lord’s children come before us, their friends and family, to pledge to each other their love and fidelity and their commitment to live for the rest of their lives as husband and wife.” He fixed a hard eye on the assembled. “If there are any here who say that this joining should not occur, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

He gave it a minute, but no one said anything – not that anyone probably would have dared once Chris turned around in his seat with a look on his face just short of a glare. Had Mary elbowed the gunslinger for that? Josiah was pretty sure she had, and it was difficult for him to keep the grin off his face as he continued. “In the presence of our Lord God and these witnesses, then, I ask you, Ezra Standish, if you intend to cleave to this woman as flesh of your own flesh and blood of your own blood as commanded in the Holy Bible, forsaking all others in your duty to be her loving and faithful husband?”

Ezra was still staring at Juliet; Josiah had to wonder if he’d even registered the words or if he was just responding to the sound of the question being directed at him – or if Ben had surreptitiously nudged him from behind. “With all mah heart,” the gambler said softly.

The big preacher smiled. “Juliet, I ask you, do you pledge yourself to commit to this man as our Lord’s gift of a helpmate to him, forsaking all others in your duty to be a loving and faithful wife for as long as you both shall live?”

Juliet wasn’t looking at him either, but she blushed prettily as she smiled at Ezra. “Ah do.”

Josiah let the grin through this time, reaching down to enfold the two smaller, still-clasped hands in his own larger ones. “Then by the grace of our Lord and in the presence of these witnesses, I now declare you man and wife. What God has joined together, let no man put asunder!”

Ben didn’t have to nudge Ezra this time; the gambler swept his new bride into his arms and kissed her soundly while the quiet church erupted into stamping and cheers…which faded into awed gasps and murmured invocations of deity when an errant ray of sun crept through one of the shards of colored glass overhead and haloed the young couple in heavenly blue light. Josiah’s smile widened. He’d seen it happen a few times during the past week at about this time of day and had hoped the conditions would be right for it to happen during the ceremony – it might only be a bounce of refracted light, but it looked like a sign from Above and most people would see it as God’s own blessing on the marriage. And, he thought to himself, it might very well be exactly that. He didn’t understand why Juliet’s brother Jesse had just winked at him, though…

Ezra broke off kissing his wife just before it would have become indecent, smiled down into her eyes and then offered her his arm. “Shall we, ma cherie?”

She returned the smile, something of the already fading blue light lingering in her eyes in much the same way it still glittered in the tiny winking gems decorating her headcovering. “We shall, mon cher amour.”

People were beginning to stand up now, and as the young couple walked slowly down the aisle together with Ben and Meg arm in arm behind them and Josiah trailing along after that the townsfolk of Four Corners pressed in from both sides to offer their best wishes, conveyed by handshakes for Ezra and affectionate kisses for Juliet. Bart and Bret had briefly abandoned their positions as doorkeepers to claim hugs and kisses of their own, but before they could return to their posts the church doors flew open, sending at least a dozen people into high alert and causing eight guns to be drawn and aimed with frightening speed. Ezra wasn’t wearing his, but he was just as quick to wrap a protective arm around his startled wife; he scowled at the person standing in the doorway. “Ah see you decided to make an entrance, Mother,” he said disgustedly. “Howevah, I don’t believe this was the wisest time or place for it.”

Maude stalked in, ignoring the guns still pointed at her, and looked down at the wide-eyed woman standing between herself and her son for one assessing moment before dismissing her and focusing her attention instead on the man standing behind her. “I came here as quickly as I could to stop you makin’ this dreadful mistake, Ezra, but it appears I am too late…again.” That caused more than one gasp, and Ezra stiffened. “But luckily this time your…attachment is mainly sentimental as no one of consequence has witnessed it. I’ve had enough of your flagrant disobedience, Ezra; you’re comin’ with me right now and no more nonsense!”

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then Josiah started to laugh; Ezra joined him, much to Maude’s indignation. “Ezra, how old are you again?” the preacher chuckled. “I could have sworn you were old enough to be out of short pants, son.”

“At thirty-two ah should be,” was the amused reply. “Howevah, it appears my dear mother has a different opinion of the mattah.” He tightened his arm around Juliet in a reassuring squeeze. “Mother, ah believe you have yet to meet mah wife, Juliet; Juliet, mah at the moment rather mannerless mother, Maude Standish—ah assure you, darlin’, she is usually quite charmin’.”

Juliet immediately extended one small hand. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Standish,” she said sweetly.

Maude looked down at the offered hand and then up a little farther into the wide indigo eyes that were sincere if more than a little apprehensive; her expression became contemptuous. “Ezra, you cannot be serious about this; I refuse to believe you have become _this_ lost to all reason…”

“All right, that’s enough.” Ben didn’t raise his voice but his tone said he meant business. He moved past Ezra and looked down at Juliet. “Mrs. Standish, your brother and I will take care of this.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek, then turned back to Maude and grabbed the woman’s arm; Jesse already had the other one. “And now, Miss Maude, I believe that we have business to attend to outside.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, Juliet,” Jesse reassured his sister, and then he and Ben led Maude out of the church. Jesse frowned when he took note of the loaded table outside, and at his urging they steered the conwoman over to it. “Girls,” he addressed Molly and Becky. “Did this woman come anywhere near this food, did she even come near the table?”

Both working girls looked at Maude and shook their heads. “She looked at it awful hard before she went bustin’ in there, though,” Becky qualified.

Maude couldn’t hold back a little gasp as Jesse’s grip on her arm became bruising. “Thank you, girls,” he said, and then the two men dragged Maude off again. Once they were well away from the church they stopped, and the conwoman found herself backed against an unyielding wooden wall. JD came hurrying up after them, and Jesse smiled tightly at him. “Making sure we don’t break the law, Sheriff?”

JD grinned back. “Nope, making sure you have plenty of backup – wouldn’t put it past her to try to come back later and say you did something you didn’t.”

“Good thinkin’,” Ben approved. He glared down at Maude. “Now I’d ask you just what the hell you thought you were up to, but I’m pretty sure I already know.”

The conwoman scowled up at him. “I don’t believe we are acquainted, sir.”

Ben snorted. “You only wish – I’m just about positive you remember us runnin’ you out of Jasper, since you ain’t been back.”

“And you and I haven’t been introduced yet,” Jesse told her before she could answer. “But rest assured I know all about you. Judge Calloway doesn’t have a very high opinion of you, by the way.”

Maude paled a little but didn’t back down. “He’s not here.”

“No, but he wanted to be,” Jesse said. “And since you brought it up by saying no one of consequence witnessed Ezra and my sister’s marriage…” He smiled, not nicely. “Well, I think I’m someone of consequence. So is Mr. Maverick here, and Sheriff Dunne, not to mention all the other lawmen who were present, the bank manager, several prominent local business owners and all the other good people of Four Corners.”

“And I can just imagine not a one of them’s too impressed that you dismissed them out of hand the way you just did,” Ben smirked at her. “You really need to think about quittin’ the business, Maude, you’ve lost your touch and then some.”

She tried to yank her arm out of his grasp again. “If that ungrateful boy of mine would just put his God-given talents to work to help me…”

“He’s not a con, Maude.” Ben shook his head. “You still just don’t get it, do you? Ezra’s not like you, you can’t make him be like you. He’s a good man, and he uses his ‘God-given talents’ to do good things – that’s why the good Lord has let him keep them all this time. You, on the other hand…”

“That was stupid of you, to come into the church like that,” Jesse said, shaking his head as well. “We made sure the whole town knew about you, of course, but there were probably a few of them who didn’t really believe it.” He smiled at her again. “You took care of that. I don’t think you’re going to be too welcome in Four Corners or Eagle Bend any time soon.”

“She’s not welcome here now,” JD chimed in, looking serious and not at all like he’d been just standing there enjoying the show – which he had been. “Ma’am, I don’t want you in my town, and if there wasn’t a wedding going on right now I’d have some of the boys take you out. I’m not gonna do that to them, though, since it’s one of our own that’s just got married, so you can just cool your heels at the hotel until the party’s over and then we’ll see you on your way.” He took Jesse’s place. “Go on back to your sister, Mr. McLaughlin, and let her know everything’s okay.”

“Can do, Sheriff.” Jesse’s smile grew dimples at the look on the conwoman’s face when she recognized his name. “See, I told you I was someone of consequence. I’d say it was a pleasure meeting you…but it wasn’t.” He leaned forward, something suddenly dangerous and frighteningly unnatural sparkling in his eyes. “You don’t want to mess with me, Maude Standish, and I’ll warn you just this once not to ever try it again. _Ever_. Do we understand each other? Because money isn’t the only power I’ve got and _I don’t like you_.”

If Maude could have pushed herself backwards through the wall, she probably would have. But just as suddenly the unnatural sparkle was gone and Jesse was tipping his hat to the other two men and heading back to the church, leaving a shaken and somewhat subdued conwoman in his wake. Ben shook her arm slightly as he pulled her away from the wall. “You gonna stay where we put you, Maude?” He wasn’t sure what it was Jesse had done, but whatever it was he wished he had some of it too; a little chill worked its way up his spine at that thought and he hurriedly set it aside. “Come on now, then, I want to get back to the party. There’s a sittin’ room in the hotel has a nice view of things, you can watch everyone from there.”

Maude didn’t say a word or put up any more fight as JD and Ben took her up to the hotel’s upstairs sitting room and locked her in, nor did she get out one of the picks she had concealed about her person to effect her own emancipation. She had miscalculated, badly it seemed, and she needed to think over the situation before doing anything else. She was already pushing what she’d seen in Jesse McLaughlin’s eyes out of her mind, noting to herself only that she needed to account for him carefully in whatever future plans she might make. The man was beyond wealthy, by all accounts. Maude made a face. If she only hadn’t reacted so precipitously to the news that Ezra was getting married…but it was too late to repair that damage now. She could watch, the Mississippian she only vaguely remembered had said, and perhaps that wasn’t a bad idea; she could observe the goings on in the street below and perhaps learn something that would be of use to her later. Pulling the room’s most comfortable chair over to the window, Maude settled herself in it and arranged the curtains so that she could not be seen by anyone, gritting her teeth in irritation when she saw Ezra come out with that little chit of a girl he’d attached himself to on his arm, surrounded by riffraff. She pushed her anger down, knowing it would come up again as she watched but also knowing this was information she had to have. She wasn’t going to make any more mistakes.

 

After Maude’s removal the crowd had surrounded Ezra and Juliet again – protectively, this time – and swept them outside into the churchyard. Juliet was whisked away from her husband’s side by Mrs. Potter and Meg, Buck trotting after them with his hand on his gun. Ezra had to smile when he heard Chris inform the ladies’ man that no he could _not_ shoot to kill if Maude popped back up. “Ah’m not sure ah agree with that prohibition,” the gambler told Vin.

“There’s worse fates than death,” the tracker responded with a shrug, his blue eyes tracking Jesse as the limping man came back into the party and loudly reassured everyone that the problem had been taken care of before heading off after his sister. Oh yep, there were worse fates, all right - and Vin thought being on Jesse McLaughlin’s bad side was probably one of them. Pissing off Chris and the rest of them hadn’t been too bright of Maude either, but then Vin had never been convinced that the woman was as smart as some other people seemed to think she was. “And ain’t it bad luck to hold a funeral and a weddin’ at the same time?”  

Ezra snorted. “Ah’d say it depends on who’s funeral it is, actually.” Ben appeared then from the direction of the hotel and came straight to Ezra’s side. “Well?” the gambler asked him.

“Deep subject,” the older man answered with a grin. He slapped his smaller friend on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, that brother-in-law of yours put the fear into her and then Sheriff Dunne and I locked her up in the hotel’s sittin’ room for the duration – she’ll stay there,” he reassured Ezra quickly. “Ain’t nowhere for her to go without someone seein’ her and raisin’ the alarm. And Jesse checked when we brought her out, she didn’t get nowhere near the tables before she came bustin’ into the church.”

“Thank goodness for small favors,” Ezra replied. He patted his jacket, grimacing when he remembered he’d left his flask behind with his guns. “I suppose we should go investigate the tables ourselves, I find I am in need of a libation.”

“Can’t blame you for that.” Ben pulled out his own flask and handed it over as they moved back toward the feast that was still being spread out by Mrs. Abbott and the girls. The stack cake dominated the main table, there having been so many layers brought that they’d been forced to make two stacks and consequently had a huge cake as wide as a serving tray. But the little cake that sat close beside it drew almost equal astonishment; small and round and only two layers high, cascades of flowers festooned the top and dripped down the linen-smooth sides to scatter stray blossoms across the wider bottom layer, which was ornamented at its edge with a beribboned garland. Ben nudged Ezra with his elbow. “I saw her makin’ that one,” he said with a grin. “That’s the groom’s cake, you lucky dog. She told me she used to decorate cakes for people to help pay for her schoolin’, although with a talent like she’s got I don’t know what she needed school for in the first place.”

Ezra smiled and shook his head. “Would you believe me if I told you she’d been led to believe by countless people that her skill in the kitchen was rather pedestrian?”

“I’d believe _you_ , I just wouldn’t believe them,” was the slightly snorted reply. “World is fillin’ up with idiots, if you ask me.”

“Apparently,” Ezra said. He moved quickly to flick away a finger that was about to poke at a dainty sugar rose. “Mistah Tanner, you will keep your appendages away from mah cake!”

The tracker blushed. “I just wanted to see how she did it…”

“You mean you wanted to see if it would come off so you could taste it…”

“Boys!” Mrs. Abbott swept up to them scolding. “Vin Tanner, you stay away from that. If you want to eat a flower there are some petit fours at the other end of the table you can investigate to your heart’s content.” Vin grinned widely and darted away, and she shook her head. “That boy, I swear. And he never gains an ounce.”

She swept off again, and Ezra with Ben sticking close to his side made the rounds of the happy townsfolk until his little wife was returned to him by her brother. “All right, cherie?” he asked, putting his arm around her slender shoulders.

Juliet smiled up at him. “Ah’m all right, Ezra; Mrs. Potter just wanted to tell me something before…tonight.”

Jesse was trying not very successfully not to laugh, and Ezra knew why; he and Jesse had already had a talk of their own about ‘modern’ women and what they knew about marital relations. “Very thoughtful of her,” he chuckled. “And now perhaps we should get started on the other weddin’ formalities so ah can have that glorious cake mah lovely wife made just for me.”

“You are _not_ going to eat that whole cake by yourself,” Ben informed him. “The first piece is yours, then you have to share – at least with your best man. And your brother-in-law,” he added, nodding at Jesse.

“Nice save, Ben,” Jesse commended with a wink as he steered them back toward the tables, gesturing to Chris across the crowd to come join them. “I’m holding you to that, you know.”

Other people saw where the gunslinger was going and started to move in that direction as well, and once everyone had gathered around Chris held up a hand for quiet. “All right, now that our little…interruption’s been settled, let’s get on with things. Ben?”

Punch was being passed throughout the crowd, and once most everyone had some Maverick started his toast. “I only met Ezra’s beautiful bride a few days ago,” he began. “But I’d heard about her, from his letters, and I must admit I had a hard time believing any woman could be all that I was reading. But once I came here and saw for myself…well, he didn’t exaggerate, not one little bit. Ezra found the perfect woman, a wonderfully generous, industrious, kind woman who I believe loves him as much as he loves her.” He held up his cup. “To the bride.”

The townsfolk echoed him enthusiastically, and Juliet hid her blush against Ezra’s waistcoat. The gambler tightened his hold on her reassuringly while raising his own cup with his free hand. “All true, cherie,” he whispered.

Chris heard and smiled at them before picking up where Ben had left off. “In the interest of keeping this short, the boys and I decided that I would speak for all of the lawmen of Four Corners,” he told the crowd, making a face when Buck cheered that on. “I’ve known Ezra for three years now, and I’m proud to ride beside him any day of the week. He makes a fine lawman, a fine friend, and I know he’ll make a fine husband to his new wife. Best of luck to you, Ezra!”

More toasts followed, from Jesse, Gordon and West, and a few of the other men in town; it wasn’t proper for women to raise a toast of their own in mixed company, but they joined in the cheering all the same. Toasting was followed by the cutting of the wedding cake – the stack cake first, which had to be done by Juliet for superstition’s sake to prevent the marriage being barren. Ezra’s groom’s cake was cut next, and then the tables were pretty much descended on by the townsfolk and remained a focal point even after the fiddler had started playing and most of the younger people, including the bride and groom, had left off eating in favor of dancing.

 

Nathan watched the dancers with a frown, but his displeasure was directed at himself. There had been good times, he remembered, good times he had tried his best to forget because to remember was to admit that his master had not been the consistently cruel, unrelentingly evil bastard the War had painted him as—and to admit that would have been unthinkable.

He had run away from the plantation the night his master died, as had many of the others; the overseer and his men had been conspicuous by their absence that night—something else Nathan had tried not to think about. Maybe it was time to start thinking again, time to start being honest with himself…and with his friends.

His frown giving way to a small smile, the tall healer made his way to the fiddler and murmured a request; the old man’s eyebrows went up in surprise, but when Nathan nodded and looked pointedly toward Ezra he answered with a smile and nod of his own and stuck the fiddle back under his chin.

When the opening bars of music darted out among the waiting dancers Ezra jerked like he’d been shot; he wasn’t the only one. But when his surprised green eyes fell on Nathan standing beside the musician, shock was superseded by understanding…and grateful acceptance. He gravely saluted the relieved black man and then turned back to his wondering partner.

Nathan saw words exchanged between the two, and saw Juliet dart up on tiptoe to kiss her husband’s cheek before moving purposefully in his direction; he abruptly found himself looking down—quite a ways down – into a pair of wide indigo eyes. “Mistah Jackson,” she said, extending a dainty hand that shook only slightly. “Ah believe you are the only man present who hasn’t danced with me.”

The healer reached automatically for the small hand, then shot a look in Ezra’s direction; the gambler grinned and nodded, then made his way to the sidelines and made a very respectful bow to a very startled Janey as he invited her to share the dance with him. Soon nearly everybody was dancing to the rallying song of a cause long since lost, and the last ghost of the Confederacy was laid to rest in Four Corners.

 

From behind the curtained window of the hotel sitting room, Maude watched the festivities with a mixture of anger and contempt. “That disrespectful, ungrateful, disappointin’ boy,” she seethed, seeing her son swap partners with Nathan Jackson and then swing his small new wife up into the air with a brilliant smile that she well remembered from another face, another time. She was positive now he hadn’t married the girl for her brother’s money, much as she’d hoped it might have been so. “After all ah’ve done to insure that he wouldn’t become a weak, sentimental fool, the disgraceful child _still_ turned out just like his father…”


End file.
